I Wish
by xxsurexx
Summary: Sam and Dean do everything together these days. But what happens when a wish Dean didn't want granted comes true, in the worst way he could've imagined? Will this new event bring the brothers' closer together or drive them apart forever?
1. Chapter 1

Bob strolled down the pavement, whistling as he went. He was nearing the end of his shift, and although being a mall's security guard didn't really entitle much work, he'd still be glad to get home, kick back and relax for a few hours. If his wife didn't start her nagging again, that is.  
Spending five hours a day dealing with frantic mothers, and try-hard delinquent kids who stole socks and lipsticks for kicks, wasn't exactly what he'd been thinking of when he'd signed up as a guard. But it was better than nothing. Bob thought of what his life would be like without his TV to block out his wife and kids' whinging, and he almost had to sit down.  
_Wow, it'd be like hell...minus the dying part.  
_Speaking of hysterical mums, here came one now. Bob sighed and readied himself for the onslaught of information he knew was to come.  
Sure enough, the minute the middle-aged, slightly plump woman arrived in front of him, without even pausing to gain her breath, she started talking.  
"Hello have you seen my son? He's about this high with short spiky blonde hair and glasses and he was wearing a red Spiderman shirt and three-quarter black pants and runners with a Bob the Builder backpack he's five years old and answers to the name Mikey I was shopping and the next thing I knew he had gone!" she paused, her frantic tirade finally coming to a halt.  
Bob waited until she was breathing again, then dealt with her the way he had been taught before he started here.  
"Okay, ma'am, I'll send that information through to the help desk, and they'll put a call over the loudspeaker for him to meet you here. If anyone see's him they'll bring him here too," Bob said soothingly, trying to remove the iron-like grip she held him in.  
"Okay, thankyou so much, you must think I'm a hopeless parent, but I swear I only looked away for a second! He doesn't cope very well on his own, please hurry!"  
Bob finally peeled the last of her fingers off, backing away slowly.  
"Yes, ma'am, I'll handle this personally."  
He turned around, only to walk straight into a young man, who looked just as frantic as the woman.  
_Oh no, what now?  
_The man, who couldn't have been more than twenty-six, had clear green eyes, close cropped hair, and a handsomely chiselled face, with a 3 o'clock shadow. He was about 6'1 tall, and was sporting a leather jacket. Bob eyed it enviously; he'd had one when he was about this man's age; but it didn't fit anymore, not over his recently acquired pot belly.  
Bob was pulled out of his reveries as the man clutched his arm, much as the mother had done.  
"Please, you have to help me," he gasped, clutching his side, where he obviously had a stitch from running so hard. Bob smiled to himself; finally, he had a chance to prove himself to everyone. Maybe someone had tried to steal something big, or-Bob almost giggled in glee-maybe someone even had a gun!  
"Just tell me where the trouble is, son, I'll deal with it personally!" he said professionally. The man looked at him thankfully, before spitting out what he needed to say.  
"It's my brother, I went inside to buy some food, come back five seconds later and he was gone. There were no signs of like, attack, so I know he left by himself. Besides, there's not much out there that could take my brother by surprise! I swear though, I'll kill him when I get my hands on him!"  
As the man made vaguely threatening motions in the air, Bob felt himself deflate.  
"You mean...you're reporting a missing child?" he asked flatly.  
The man nodded eagerly, then continued with his descriptions.  
"Yeah, he's about this tall," to Bob's surprise the man gestured somewhere above his head.  
_That can't be right...  
_"And he's wearing, uh, jeans, and a plain blue t-shirt, with a shirt over the top, not buttoned, and then a hoodie. He has hazel eyes and long brown hair like a girl's." The man stopped, face creased in thought. "Anything else?" he muttered to himself, and the mother, who'd been standing by the whole time, stepped forward.  
"His name, dear?" she supplied helpfully, and he grinned winningly at her.  
"Yeah, thanks. His name is Sam, doesn't answer to Sammy and _definitely_ not Samuel. Ever. Oh, and he's twenty-three."  
Bob and the mother turned to each other simultaneously in confusion as the man's mobile rang. He turned to answer it, muttering a few curt "yup's" before hanging up.  
"Never mind, he's been spotted...maybe. Thanks for all your help, officer. Ma'am," he said, nodding politely in the woman's direction.  
Then he was gone, as swiftly as he had arrived, leaving the pair standing where they were, baffled.  
Bob turned to stare critically at the woman.  
"Your missing child is, in fact, a _child_, isn't he?"

---

"Dammit, Sammy, pick up pick up pick up!" Dean grumbled into his phone as he slid into the Impala, slamming the door as gently as he could, while still getting the same 'I'm-pissed-as-hell' effect.  
He threw the mobile into the passenger seat as it remained un-responsive, putting the car into gear and backing out of the supermarket's parking lot.  
It had literally only been a few minutes, but the minute he'd gotten back, Sam was gone.  
_I guess it was my fault, _Dean thought sadly. _I should've known better to leave him alone, what with the mood he was in and everything.  
_It had been a bit weird, to be honest. They had just completed a run-of-the-mill, salt-and-burn job, when Sam had suddenly sunk into this blue funk that Dean had been unable to pull him out of.  
_Maybe it's the time of the year?  
_It was nearing Halloween, and Dean knew that was one of the last times Sam had spent any time with his girlfriend, Jessica.  
_That must be it, _he thought, satisfied that he'd figured his brother out.  
Dean cruised down the road slowly, deciding on the best course of action; something he usually had Sam do for him.  
Suddenly he noticed all of Sam's possessions; his wallet, jacket and bags, sitting in the passenger seat. Dean braked sharply, chest heaving as the tires squealed against the gravel road, the smell of burnt rubber penetrating the air.  
_Sammy would never have run off without his stuff...something supernatural is definitely up.  
_Dean drove off again, a grim smile on his face, heading for Ellen's road house, where the call had come from.

---

"Hey, Dean, wait up!"  
Sam slowed his jog to a halt, watching in disbelief as Dean pulled out of the shop's parking lot, heading down the road. He started running again as Dean braked suddenly, new hope coursing through him.  
_Of course, he's just trying to get me worried. Nice prank, Dean, but I'll get you back...  
_But then the car was up and running again, speeding down the road as if its life depended on it.  
_Not that cars are alive...although I'm pretty sure Dean would disagree with me on that one.  
_Speaking of...Sam turned and kicked a rock frustratedly. Why would Dean strand him in the middle of some back water country town? Was he trying to get back at Sam for something?  
Sam wracked his brains, and came up with nothing.  
Suddenly he remembered his mobile; he'd stuffed that in his pocket just before he'd gotten out of the car. After being cooped up in the Impala for an hour while Dean went shopping, Sam had decided to go for a short walk, get the blood rushing again. Dean had said he'd be five minutes, but he'd _obviously_ meant sixty. Obviously...  
Sam had come back, five minutes later, to find Dean driving away, leaving him standing stupidly, coughing in the cloud of dust the cloud had produced.  
Sam pulled his mobile out and dialled Dean's number furiously, preparing an angry retribution for his older brother.  
And met nothing but a dial tone. The phone was busy.  
Sam angrily slammed his phone shut, then realised Dean might've been trying to call him. He eagerly punched in the number for his message box, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg as he waited.  
Finally! One new message...  
"Sammy, it's me." A moment's pause as Dean realised he wasn't being entirely specific. "Uh, Dean. Your brother." Sam listened as Dean fell silent, wondering what his brother was waiting for.  
_He's not waiting for a response is he? It's a message, Dean, as in; one way!  
_"Anyway...I just want you to know, when you get this, that I'm trying to track down the demon this very minute. I won't let him get away with taking you from under my nose, that stupid sunnova-" Dean cursed under his breath; the action was a bit pointless as Sam could hear every inhalation through the phone.  
_What demon is he talking about? I didn't know we were on a hunt...  
_"If you manage to get free, I'm heading for Ellen's place. What the he-" There was a rustling noise, and Sam guessed that Dean had dropped the mobile. "Uh, Sammy, you there? Anyway, she called and said she had news on a new demon. Coincidence? I think not..." Dean chuckled, for some reason, then cleared his throat and hung up with a curt 'bye'.  
Sam sat back and stared musingly at his mobile for a second, as if it could explain everything.  
_Hey, don't look at me, _it seemed to tell him, looking somehow indignant. _I'm just the messenger.  
_It only took Sam another minute to put two and two together, and realised that Dean thought he'd been kidnapped by some demon.  
Growling under his breath, he dialled Ellen's number.  
_Maybe she'll be able to talk some sense into him...and convince him to come pick me up.  
_Sam glanced over at a truckie with a big pot belly, who was eyeing him with a little more interest than everyday politeness required.  
_And none too soon, too..._

---

"Look, I said I'm sorry Sammy!" Dean grumbled, glancing over at Sam, who was driving. After all that had happened, Dean had thought it would be best if he got on Sam's better side and let him drive the Impala, which Sam knew was a privilege.  
But the effect seemed to be wasted on his little brother, as Sam glared over the steering wheel, peering furiously at the road. Dean winced as Sam roughly changed gear.  
_I'm sorry baby, it'll only be a little longer. Then I'll kick his ungrateful butt back into the passenger seat and we can be together again...  
_Sam glanced over at Dean as the older man ran his hand lovingly over the leather seat, and sighed.  
"You're thinking dirty thoughts about the car again, aren't you Dean?"  
Dean looked affronted, then submissive.  
"No, I-okay, so I was."  
Sam shook his head, some of his old anger returning as he saw Dean look at him hopefully. His brother obviously thought he had forgiven him.  
_No way is that gonna happen any time soon...  
_"Calling me 'Sammy' isn't going to help you much," Sam said stiffly, bringing the subject up again, knowing there was no way he could lose any argument Dean brought up, because he was on the higher moral ground.  
He glanced at Dean, annoyed, as this failed to elicit a response from him.  
"You know what your problem is, Dean?" he tried again. Dean turned to look at him, a mocking response about to trip off his tongue, but changed his mind at the last minute. He was interested to see where this was going to go...  
"It's that you're too busy treating me like a child to see I'm not," Sam finished quietly. Dean stared at him, stunned.  
"What? That's a load of bull, Sammy! I know you can make your own choices, you showed us that when you walked out on me and dad. I let you be, and it was your own choice to follow me when I asked you to help find dad! Then it was your choice to continue when he died."  
Sam opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again.  
"I'm just saying, you don't have to think the worst every time I go missing," he muttered darkly.  
Dean ignored him, and the brothers drove on towards Ellen's road house in silence.

---

"So...these people get their wishes granted...but in a _bad_ way?" Sam asked dubiously. Dean sipped his beer slowly, then set it on the table before grinning.  
"So it's like...some kind of bad-ass, vengeful fairy?" Dean's face fell as everyone glared at him. "Too soon? It's too soon, isn't it. Okay."  
Sam rolled his eyes at Ellen, who hid a grin at the boy's reaction to his older brother's antics.  
"Dean, three people have died."  
Dean snorted into his drink.  
"Well, that's their fault for wasting their wishes, isn't it?"  
Ellen intervened before Sam could throttle his brother.  
"Boys, you need to cooperate on this one, okay? We've traced the, uh," she choked on the word; the notion was so _ludicrous_, "Fairy to a place in Australia. So, you're gonna have to fly there."  
Sam grinned as Dean blanched.  
"Didn't Dean tell you, Ellen? He doesn't like flying."  
Ellen sighed as Dean punched Sam in the arm, who scowled as he rubbed the sore spot.  
"Sam, don't tease your brother." Dean laughed and stuck his tongue out at Sam, and Ellen glared at him.  
"And you, Dean. Don't...just _don't_."  
Dean downed his drink, standing up while grabbing his jacket, a manoeuvre he had practised and perfected in front of the mirror as a kid.  
"Why can't a hunter in Australia do it?"  
Ellen rolled her eyes.  
"Because, Dean, we need the best." Ellen paused as the brothers' grinned gleefully at each other, then interrupted their silent celebration. "And, seeing as we can't have that, we'll settle for you guys."

---

24 hours and three paper bags of Dean's stomach contents later, (_wow, try saying that five times quickly _thought Sam) and the brothers were standing in Melbourne's airport, bags in hand, awed by the bustle of the crowd.  
"Look at everyone," Dean said slowly. Sam waited patiently for more, then prodded his brother in frustration as he just stood, gaping.  
"And, Dean?"  
Dean started, looking around, surprised.  
"What? Oh, it's just so...overwhelming. Everything's so...bustling!"  
"Have you been reading the dictionary again Dean?"  
Dean scowled.  
"Shuddup Sammy. C'mon, we have a job to do. Let's get it done and get out of here ASAP. Now...where do you think you hire the kangaroos?"  
"The what, Dean?"  
"You know, the big hopping animals they ride around here instead of cars or horses. Geez, College Boy, don't you know anything?!"

---

Sam and Dean stood back to back in the middle of the door, guns raised and ready to shoot. Sam's eyes flickered over the entryways as Dean searched the roof and floor.  
"Nothing," he grunted. "We've salted all the entryways. There's no where it could've gone."  
"She," Sam said distractedly. They had entered the apartment ten minutes ago, Dean dramatically kicking the door in, and scaring the living daylight out of the man inside. They had backed out apologetically, only to run in again as the man screamed in agony.  
There, before their very eyes, he had turned into a statue of living gold. In a matter of minutes he had died from suffocation.  
There had nothing they could do but search for the perpetrator; the fairy. And they had come across hr a minute later, as she materialised in a corner of the room, clapping her hands delightedly as she viewed the results of her handiwork.  
"Oh, this is too good to be true!" she'd squealed, walking round the statue, admiring the result of her cursed wish.  
Suddenly she had seen Sam and Dean; rather, she'd heard them fire their guns. Luckily for her it was just rock salt. She glanced down and squealed in anger, then she disappeared.  
Which left Sam and Dean in the predicament they were in now; not knowing where she was, not daring to leave the safety of the room.  
"Dean...do you s'pose she's gone?" Sam asked tentatively. Dean just grunted in response, his eyes squinting suspiciously at the far wall. Sam followed his gaze, and as he did he noticed a girl-shaped patch, a little more 3D than the rest of the wall.  
He looked at Dean, who nodded curtly, raising the gun and pointing it at the fairy.  
"On the count of three," he muttered, without moving his lips.  
Sam nodded in acknowledgement, readjusting his grip on the sweaty handle of the gun.  
"One. Two. Thr-"  
"Don't shoot!" cried the fairy, dropping her guise and unmerging with the wall.  
Sam shot on reflex, hitting the wall beside her head, and she cowered. Dean, who had a little more experience in these things, managed to hold his gun in check.  
"There's no way around this," he informed the girl grimly. She looked around his age; twenty five maybe, with long straight blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. Her ears were slightly pointed, as was her nose, and when she titled her head he could just catch a glimpse of feathery wings.  
"Aw, c'mon, Dean," she crooned, completely ignoring Sam, who shifted on his feet, annoyed at being forgotten.  
_Not that being the centre of an insane fairy's attention is a good thing.  
_"It doesn't have to be this way," she continued, and Dean stared fixatedly into her eyes. He could feel his mind slipping, giving into her mesmerising stare. He blinked and shook himself roughly, angry at himself for slipping up.  
_She's gonna try trick you Dean, but you can't let her.  
_"I could grant you your greatest desire," she whispered, and it became so hard for Dean to block that voice out, the voice that told him to go ahead and _wish, say the magic words...I wish...  
_No! Dean felt someone slap him lightly, and he looked up to see Sam peering worriedly down at him, while still keeping an eye on the now-smirking fairy.  
"Dean, you just...collapsed," he informed his brother worriedly. Dean shook Sam off, glaring angrily at the fairy.  
"What did you do to me?!" he demanded. She grinned evilly back, eyes now pure black.  
"I didn't do anything you didn't want done, Dean," she whispered cryptically.  
Dean felt a grip as cold as ice clench his heart, and he gulped.  
"I didn't say the words, it doesn't matter. You can't do anything to me."  
She threw her head back and laughed dementedly. Sam shivered, and Dean shook his head.  
"Man, could you stop that? It's just plain _creepy_."  
She stopped laughing immediately, looking decidedly angrier.  
"It doesn't matter Dean. You may not have said the words out loud, but I heard them in your heart. I heard them, and had no choice but to grant it. Your wish will come true, Dean," she cried dramatically, her voice raising in pitch. "In the worst possible way you could've imagined. And when it does, there is nothing you can do to hurt me. I am protected by the very wish you requested!"  
With one last 'creepy laugh' she dematerialised, leaving the boys standing together in the room.  
They were silent for a minute, then Sam turned to Dean.  
"Dean," he said slowly, his eyes filled with purpose. "I'm not going to ask you this twice. What. Did. You. Wish. For."  
Dean avoided the taller man's eyes, looking sheepishly at his feet.  
"I'm not sure, I was thinking a lot of things at the time, and I never said nay out loud."  
Sam sighed, frustrated, running a hand through his long brown hair.  
"Yeah, but only one of them would've started with 'I wish'."  
Dean finally looked up to meet Sam's eyes, his green ones filled with an unusual amount of emotion.  
Guilt. Regret. And...hope.  
"It was an accident Sammy, I swear. But...I wished that...you needed me as much as I needed you."

---

Sam lay back in the bed of the motel room they'd rented. There was only one room left, with a single, and Dean had volunteered for the couch. Sam wasn't surprised; he knew his brother was feeling guilty for stuffing up the hunt. Even though he hadn't done it purposefully. But Sam wasn't going to let up the chance of a good night's sleep; not after having slept for the past few weeks in the passenger seat of the Impala, his long legs cramped in the small space.  
"Dean, what do you think she's going to do about it?"  
The question surprised Dean; Sam had stayed quiet for so long. He'd been wondering the same thing, to be honest.  
"I dunno Sammy. I...just don't know."  
Sam sighed loudly and hopelessly, the sound cutting through Dean like a knife. All he'd wanted to do was protect his brother, and look what he'd gotten them into!  
"I'm gonna go to sleep now, Dean," Sam muttered, switching off his bedside light. Dean did the same with the big one, crawling under the thick blanket he'd laid on the couch.  
"Night, Sammy."

---

"Deeeeeeeaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!"  
Dean sat up as if he had been shocked, trying to untangle himself from the blankets, ending up on the floor with the blanket on top of him.  
He finally freed himself, only tripping once on his way to his younger brother's bed.  
Much, much younger.  
"Sammy," he gasped, his usually tanned face white with shock. "What, what happened to you?!"  
Sam sat in a sea of blankets, which had once barely covered his body, and now swathed him like a cocoon.  
"You tell me," the little seven year old said darkly, glowering at Dean from under his long fringe.  
Dean stepped back in shock, staring at the little boy in confusion.  
_That young face, that bony little body...it can't be Sammy, it can't.  
_But the minute the kid looked up at Dean, he knew it was; the little guy was wearing Sam's signature puppy dog eyes, pouting lip look.  
"Dean, she turned me into a freakin' child! Look at me!" he wailed.  
Dean couldn't help but grin. Hearing the miniature Sam swear like that...priceless.  
"Watch your language, kid," he said mock-sternly, and Sam stared at him in astonishment.  
"You...you actually think this is funny, don't you?!" Sam cried, standing up defiantly. The effect was ruined as his shirt, which fitted snugly on Sam's twenty-three year old buff body, hung to this tiny scrap of a kid's knees. Sam's eyes widened as he wobbled around, unused to the shortness of his limbs, until he slowly tipped off the bed. Dean leapt forward in alarm, smoothly catching the boy in his arms. He grinned at his brother, expecting a chorus of praise and gratitude,  
Instead, he got a swift yet weak punch in the face, accompanied by a growled;  
"I am going to _kill_ you Dean."  
Dean just laughed.  
"Sammy, that is such a weak threat. Do you realise you sound like a girl? I guess your voice hasn't broken yet!"  
Another punch. Dean doubled over, eyes bulging, coming eye to eye with a satisfied Sam.  
"Don't call me Sammy."

---


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hey, uh, I'm still kinda new to this, and I realised that I forgot a disclaimer! Are they compulsory? Well, to be safe, uh...ahem

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or Sam or Dean or Jensen or Jared.

Wow. That's ruined _my_ day...

---

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the arm rests of his seat so tightly his knuckles went white. Sam stared at them interestedly, marvelling at the sudden colour change, and the way Dean was trying to anchor himself into the chair.

"Y'know Dean," Sam started, then stopped, disconcerted. He still wasn't yet used to the change in his voice It was so high, and..._childish_. "Dean," he tried again. "If the plane were to crash, which it's not going to, then you'd be trapping yourself here, by being so tense. It slows your mind down," he finished matter-of-factly. Dean just glared at him, so Sam shrugged and sat back, fidgeting with his seat belt.

Dean winced as the plane shuddered for a second, before evening out. Flying back home...or to Ellen's place, he guessed, seeing as they didn't actually _have_ a home...it had been his first decision since Sam woke up as a seven-year-old. His little brother was beginning to grate on his nerves though, Dean thought through gritted teeth, as Sam babbled on about plane accident statistics.

Suddenly an air hostess appeared at his elbow, beaming down at him. "Hello sir, how can I be of assistance?"

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean leered back at her, and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, climbing down from the seat, struggling a little, as his feet didn't touch the ground. A new experience for him.

He darted around Dean's legs and over to the hostess, tugging on her skirt. She looked down at him, her eyes lighting up she took in his wide innocent eyes, and the earnest expression on his face.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" she laughed, leaning over slightly. Sam grinned as Dean scowled at him, then reconsidered what he was about to say.

_Should I really ask? I mean, I'm not _really_ a seven year old, I could read a book or something..._

But the novelty of flying had long worn off, and now Sam was just plain _bored_.

"Miss, I was wondering if...I could have a kids pack?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked around.

"Oh my, didn't you get one? Don't worry, I'll go find one for you right now."

Sam beamed with glee and hurried back into his seat, wriggling in anticipation. He could already see the coloured crayons before him, lying unused in their brand-new packet, just waiting for him to colour with them! And the pack of cards, with the plane company's logo on them...!

Dean cleared his throat, and Sam looked over to see Dean smirking at him. Sam flushed, averting his gaze.

"What, Dean?"

Dean stretched lazily, enjoying his brother's uncomfortableness.

_Payback time._

"Oh, nothing. Uh, one question though...you don't still need to wear _nappies_ or anything, do you?"

Dean cracked up as Sam glowered at him...but stopped as Sam started sniffing.

"S-Sammy? What...what's wrong? Are you _crying_?"

Sam shook his head angrily in denial, even as a tear trickled down his cheek, and his nose started to stuff up. He didn't know what was happening; first he'd felt angry, then hurt, and then..._this_.

Dean looked around hastily as people started to turn in their direction, frowning at him, as Sam started to cry louder, the tears really pouring down. Dean leaned down, blocking people's view of his sobbing brother.

"Sammy, what's wrong? I didn't mean it, it was just a joke, okay?"

Sam shook his head, sending tears flying in all directions.

"I don't know, Dean, it won't stop!" he wailed. Dean wracked his brains, sorting through his memories, of Sammy as a twelve-year-old, then nine-year-old...seven, _bingo_.

"Hey, Sammy, if you stop crying, I promise I'll buy you an ice-cream!"

_That_ stopped him.

Sam sniffed quietly, looking up at Dean with trust in his eyes.

"You promise? A...big chocolate one, with sprinkles on top?" he whispered.

Dean nodded his head solemnly, and Sam grinned.

"You're the best brother ever, Dean!" he cried, flinging his arms around Dean. Dean stiffened, then relaxed as he looked down at the top of his brother's head. The people who were once glaring at them were now smiling, nudging each other and pointing at the cute little boy, hugging his big brother.

The hostess arrived at that moment, and Sam released Dean, leaving him feeling strangely cold and alone. He frowned as he watched the lady fuss and coo over Sam, who acted the part of a little kid perfectly.

_That's_ the part that troubled Dean. He knew Sam would be mortified if he'd been caught acting like that as an adult...and he was pretty sure the little version of Sam still had the _adult_ Sam's brain. As confusing as that sounded...still, if that was the case, why was Sam acting so strangely?

Dean shrugged, leaning back and closing his eyes as Sam started colouring, his tongue sticking out in concentration, his brow furrowed.

As Dean drifted off to sleep, he caught Sam grinning at him, and realised that in all the fuss, he'd stopped being nervous.

_Stupid little kid...manipulating my...emotions..._

But he was too tired to wipe off the great big grin that spread over his face.

---

Sam crossed his arms grumpily as they drove down the road. It was dark outside, but Dean had said they weren't stopping until they got to Ellen's. Dean had _also_ made him sit in the backseat; apparently, the front wasn't safe for little kids.

_I'll show him little, _Sam thought angrily, bunching his hands into small fists.

Dean missed the threatening gesture as he peered at the road, muttering grumpily to himself. Usually he would've swapped with Sam by now, so that he could get some sleep. Dean was reminded painfully how unlikely that was as Sam jabbed him in the arm as he climbed into the front seat. Dean swore, swerving wildly, before regaining control of the car.

"What the hell are you doing, Sammy?! I told you to stay in the back seat!"

Sam glared at him as he buckled his seat belt in.

"Don't be mean, Dean, you know I always sit up front with you! Just because I'm smaller doesn't mean I'm an _idiot_!"

Sam stared meaningfully at Dean as he spoke the last word. Dean sighed, although he was secretly pleased.

_So it _is_ Sam in there, after all..._

This was doubly confirmed as Sam reached forward, straining to reach the radio, from which Metallica was blasting.

"Can't you change the music, Dean, it's hurting my _ears_," he whined, glaring at his older brother.

Dean was about to rudely refuse, then shrugged. What harm could it do? Maybe it'd get his brother to shut up, for once.

Sam punched the air in victory as Dean leant forward, fiddling with the cassette tape with one hand while steering with the other. He finally got it out, and a song from the radio blasted out instead. Dean sat back, trying to block out the music, stubbornly refusing to pay attention to anything that wasn't, as Sam referred to it, 'mullet rock'.

Sam, on the other hand, was transfixed. He stared at the radio's speakers adoringly, as if it would make the music louder, the words clearer. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to understand the fast-paced lyrics, then sat back, grinning.

Dean noticed the movement and frowned, annoyed. How could Sam willingly listen to music like this, yet complain every time Dean put some of _his_ music on?

"Dean, listen!" Sam suddenly urged, pointing frantically at the radio. "It's our _song_!"

Dean automatically looked at the radio, puzzled.

"We...have a song?"

Sam shook his head, as if frustrated by Dean's slowness.

"Can't you hear? This song is about us!"

Dean raised his eyebrows in alarm as Sam suddenly started singing along, his pure voice rising and falling, carrying the tune perfectly.

_He wouldn't have been able to do that if he were older, _Dean thought with satisfaction...and relief. But then he decided he'd better pay attention; knowing Sam, his little brother would probably quiz him on it later.

"Strike us like matches, 'cause everyone deserves the flames, we only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame..." Sam's voice petered out as Dean just gaped at him...as best as Dean could without actually removing his eyes from the road. Sam gestured wildly for Dean to join in.

"The sounds of this small town, make my ears hurt...they say, 'you want a war? You've got a war!' but who are you fighting for?"

And so it continued for another two minutes. Dean gripped the wheel harder as Sam got into the routine, air guitar and everything.

_I guess some things just come your age..like, seven year olds cry when they get upset, and sing along to songs, no matter what age their mind is at. They also seem to think life is divided into two sides; good and bad. Too bad it's not that simple._

Dean sighed in relief as they pulled up outside Ellen's road house. Sam yanked at the door handle, but Dean had put a child lock on it, so he had to wait until Dean got out.

"Finally, what took you so long Dean?" he yelled, running for the building's door, and pulling up short as Dean yanked at his top's collar, stopping him in his tracks.

Clothes had been a problem at first, but Dean had given Sam one of his tops, which were smaller than Sam's, and they had solved the problem of pants with a pair of shorts and a belt. Dean had insisted it would be temporary, but Sam was determined to change the instant he could. He felt utterly _ridiculous_.

"Hey, hold on there Sammy, I gotta talk to you for a minute."

Sam slowly back-pedalled, until he was even with Dean, who crouched down, so they were eye to eye. He hadn't been taller than Sam since he was sixteen; it was a strange feeling to look down at the top of his brother's head, for once.

"What is it now, Dean?" Sam asked tiredly. He found he got tired quicker now, and it was frustrating, especially as he was trying to prove to Dean that he could cope on his own.

"You're not a 6'4, or whatever you were, giant anymore, Sammy. There are dangerous people in there, so I want you to stick with me, okay?"

Sam scowled, although he was secretly touched by Dean's consternation.

"I know Dean; I'm not a ki-"

He stopped before he could complete his sentence, the unfinished word hanging in the air between them.

"We better go in now, Ellen will be waiting for us," he said quietly, and they walked through the doors, and the bustling, drunken crowds, towards the bar, where they knew they would find Ellen.

But not before Sam had slipped his small little hand into Dean's.

---

AN: Okay, hope you guys enjoyed! If you have any tips, comments, or criticism, please review...thanks to those who have already, much appreciated! Oh, and the lyrics are from Fall Out Boy's song, 'Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends.' Check it out, it's awesumness! xxsurexx


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If anyone knows how I can, I will love you forever!

* * *

Ellen was arguing with a newcomer to the road house when they arrived. She knew it was them straight away; the boys had a way of changing the atmosphere that alerted you to the fact that they were there, in the way only a Winchester man could.

She dismissed the man she was talking to, eagerly awaiting an update from the brothers' most recent hunt. She scoured the crowds, looking for the familiar smirk on Dean's face, and the defeated smile on Sam's, the one he got when he gave in to one of Dean's outrageous plans.

Surprisingly, when Dean arrived at the counter, he was alone.

"Hey, Ellen, I'll have a beer thanks."

Ellen frowned at him as he dug in his pocket for some money, waving his hand away.

"Nonsense, Dean, you boys have just returned from a hunt. It's on the house." Ellen looked behind Dean as he grinned, sliding onto a stool. "Speaking of, where's Sam gone?"

"Make that two beers Ellen," someone squeaked, and Ellen turned in astonishment to see a little boy straining to climb onto the stool next to Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and hefted the boy up by his collar, lifting him bodily from the ground and dropping him on the chair. Sam glared at him, readjusting his shirt.

"You didn't need to do that Dean, I was fine on my own," the boy pouted, and Ellen realised it was, indeed, Sam. Only...it _wasn't_.

"Dean, what on earth happened?" she whispered, eyes wide with shock.

He sighed, wiping a hand over his face in exhaustion.

"Long story short, Ellen, the freakin' fairy turned him into a kid again. I swear, she was one _messed_ _up_ piece of devil's spawn..."

Ellen tuned out as Sam knelt on his seat, so he was peering over the edge of the bar, eyes searching for something.

"S-Sam?" she asked, voice wavering.

"Yeah Ellen?" he replied casually, not looking her way. Ellen shook her head disbelievingly, then remembered Dean's request and hurried to get him a beer. She popped the lid off and set it in front of her, slamming it down a little harder than she'd intended to. Dean lifted the bottle in cheers and drank heavily.

"So, Sam, d'you think you could elaborate?" Ellen asked, turning to the younger bother, but he was staring wistfully at Dean, who was draining his drink quickly. Sam turned as she spoke his name.

"Uh, no offence Ellen...but where's mine?" he asked, confused.

_Since when does she favour Dean over me? _

Dean choked on his drink, setting it down as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Oh no Sammy, you're not having a single drop!" Dean admonished.

Sam gaped at Dean, mouth hanging open.

"What! But Dean, it's been such a long day, I just wanna have _one..._" he trailed off, staring yearningly at Dean's half-empty (meant in a totally non-pessimistic way) beer.

"You're not even legal dude," Dean said firmly, shaking his head.

Sam glared at him, digging around in his pockets for something, and pulling out a weathered piece of plastic a moment later.

"No, I am, see? I have ID!" he said triumphantly. Dean took the card from him, inspecting the front and back, then handed it to Sam, face puzzled.

"It's just a piece of plastic, Sammy."

Sam snatched it up and gawped at it.

"No! What happened to it?! My picture, details, everything, is gone!" Sam stared at the faces around him suspiciously, craning his neck to see properly. "Someone's stolen my identity!"

"_Someone's stolen my identity_," Dean mimicked, then sniggered.

Ellen frowned and smacked him on the head. Dean scowled, rubbing the sore spot, while Sam took advantage of all the distracted adults.

"What did you do that for Ellen?!"

"He's just a kid, don't tease him," she reprimanded, then her eyes widened. "Oh no you _don't_!"

Ellen snatched the beer bottle away from Sam, who had his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Eugh," he whimpered, wiping his tongue with his sleeve. "That stuff is horrible! I can't believe I used to _drink_ that!"

Dean laughed at him, then stopped as he saw Ellen glaring at him. He cleared his throat loudly, and all eyes turned to him.

"I think I know why your ID isn't...well, you're ID anymore." he said languidly, basking in the attention that came with being right.

"I think that when she changed you...back, she went the whole yard, or whatever, and erased all your records, anything showing your age or things you've done in the past sixteen years." Dean finished and sat back, then threw in a knowledgeable nod of the head for good measure.

"So...I can't drive, or drink, or _anything_?" Sam asked incredulously. Dean snorted, shaking his head.

"Would you even be able to see over the steering wheel, squirt?" he teased.

"Don't call me that!" Sam whined, punching Dean in the arm. They all stared at the spot Sam had hit Dean, then Sam sighed.

"I'm so _weak _now!" he moaned dramatically, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly his head shot up again, expression unreadable.

"Dean, can I go to the toilet?"

Ellen looked at Dean, who blushed and nodded gruffly.

"You, uh, don't need my help, do you?"

Sam shook his head emphatically, glowering.

"I'm not _stupid_, Dean."

With that the little boy slipped off the chair, padding towards the Men's toilets. Dean watched as the door swung open, then turned back towards the bar.

Ellen was staring after Sam with a dreamy, reminiscent look on her face. Dean studied her curiously, then gently coughed. She jerked her head up, blinking rapidly.

"What? Sorry, did you say something Dean?"

_Ellen's a good friend, someone who can be trusted...but this is Sammy we're talking about. And I'm the only one who really understands the kid...but I _can't_ do this alone._

Dean decided to trust her on a whim.

"I'm a little worried, to be honest," he divulged in lowered tones. "I know it's Sammy in there, but sometimes he gets these little..mood swings, I guess, where he acts like a seven-year-old kid. With good reason, obviously. But he randomly does something completely uncharacteristic, like..." Dean trailed off as he realised the sound of talking around him had disappeared, replaced by...

"Oh, _no_!" Dean breathed, swivelling around on his chair. Sam was standing on one of the tables, surrounded by a crowd of adoring hunters, all fixated by the song and dance routine Sam was putting on.

"...and incy wincy spider climbed up the spout again!" Sam finished, then bowed down low, the gesture extravagant. Dean growled as the hunters cheered and clapped, standing up so quickly that his stool fell over.

"Dean, wait!" Ellen called, but he ignored her.

"Stick with me, I said. _Can I go to the toilet, Dean_? God, stupid little kid, I'm gonna bloody kill him, who does he think he is, prancing around like a, a girl, lying to me, can't believe I _believed_ him! Stupid doe-eye look..."

With that last complaint Dean came within arms reach of Sam. Sam saw him advancing, practically blowing steam out of his ears like they did on all those cartoons, right before they charged...

_Concentrate, Sam!_ he lectured himself, and he bent down, shaking his head, collecting something from the table. He was just about done when Dean reached out and pulled him off the table, swinging him up and over the heads of the other hunters, which was quite a feat as Dean was an inch smaller than the shortest one. He strode, fuming, back to their place, dumping Sam in his chair, turning his little brother to face him before he could escape.

"Explain yourself," he demanded shortly, but he felt a little of the anger ebbing away as he saw Sam's flushed, glowing face.

"Sorry, Dean, I know I promised, but I got this great idea, and it was legal for once so I thought , why not, it'd save us the trouble, or rather, you..." Sam stopped as he realised neither Dean nor Ellen understood what he was saying. "Look, I got _moneys_," he breathed meaningfully, pooling the contents of his pockets onto the bar.

Five and ten dollar notes streamed out, and Dean looked at Sam in astonishment.

"Wow, and you weren't even that good!"

Ellen flicked Dean's ear, and he grimaced at her.

"I was _joking_!"

He turned to Sam, who stared back at him.

_Five, four, three, two, one-_

Right on cue, Dean sighed and ruffled Sam's hair.

"You did good, kid."

Sam sat up straighter, beaming.

"I did, didn't I? Now, how 'bout another beer?" he asked regally. Ellen and Dean shook their heads slowly, and he deflated. "Oh, all right then. A coke?"

Once they were all settled down with drinks, Ellen posed the question again.

"So, boys, how exactly did Sam turn into an eight-year-old? And did you kill the fairy?"

"Seven," Sam corrected. Dean looked at him strangely.

"Yeah, about that Sammy. How do you know how old you are?"

Sam frowned, then shrugged.

"I dunno...I guess, I just feel the same as I did then."

Dean raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

"You...remember how you felt when you were seven?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, shifting uncomfortably. "Anyway...no, Ellen, the fairy isn't dead."

Ellen sighed heavily and Dean slammed his fist onto the bar.

"Yeah, and she let off a curse before she disappeared," he spat.

"A wish," Sam said distractedly. Ellen looked up in surprise.

"Wait, you wished for something? Even after you knew what happened to those who did?" she quizzed.

"It's not like I did it on _purpose_," Dean defended. "It just sorta _happened_." Dean glanced around for a subject change, before Ellen asked for the exact details of the wish, and his gaze landed on Sam.

_Perfect._

"Hey, Ellen, mind if we finish this convo later? Sammy's getting tired. It's way past his bed time."

"S'not!" Sam complained, but his face was scrunched up in a yawn as he spoke, his hands balled into little fists as he rubbed his eyes.

"Sure, boys, follow me."

---

"Did you go to the toilet?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Brush your teeth?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Did you-"

"Yes, Dean, I did everything!" Sam shot back, annoyed. Dean raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"No need to yell, just trying to help," grumbled Dean, turning over in his bed, pulling the sheets up around his ears.

Sam fell silent, watching him. His hazel eyes were struggling to stay open, so he shook his head viciously. He hugged his knees to his chest and leant against the wall, allowing the refreshingly cool touch of the brick wall keep him awake.

Things these past few days had been weird, too weird. Being treated like a little kid...that was almost worst than _being_ one. Almost, but not quite, because he'd obviously never have the second problem if the first one had never occurred...

Sam frowned, biting his lip; a habit he'd thought he'd grown out of long ago. That right there was another problem; he found his thoughts wandering a lot more now than they did before. It was getting so _hard_ to concentrate on one line of thought.

The most confusing part of it all was why Dean had wished that in the first place. Of course he needed Dean; he'd thought that was obvious! And he would tell Dean more, too, except Dean always got all weird when they touched on those subjects.

Sam sighed as he watched his slumbering older brother; he looked so innocent, so untroubled. It was nice to know that his protective sibling could escape the nightmares of life while he slept.

Suddenly one of Dean's eyes flew open, meeting Sam's own, which were resting a few centimetres from his face.

"Could you stop watching me sleep? It's creepy." he grunted. Sam grinned at him, his fringe falling into his eyes. He flicked it back with a toss of his head, and Dean rolled his eyes.

_I guess old habits die hard..._

"Thanks for being so good to me these past few days," Sam said earnestly. Dean nodded his head and went to roll over, but Sam grabbed his arm before he could, frowning. How could he get Dean to understand that he was being sincere?

"I mean it," he insisted. "It's...nice, not having to worry about anything, knowing you'll be there for me."

This time Dean smiled, raising himself up on one elbow. The boys were in a room with two beds, but Sam had crawled into Dean's before lights out, claiming it was a good way to keep away the cold. Dean let him, a knowing smile on his face.

"I know you do, Sammy," he said gently. Sam lay down, finally, pulling most of the blanket off Dean as he did so. Dean laughed and tugged it back, so that they shared it equally.

"Night Dean."

"Night Sammy."

The noises from the bar slowly faded away, replaced by the brothers' breathing. Dean remembered back to when they were little. Sammy used to climb into his bed every night, even though their dad had told him not to. Dean remembered pressing his head against Sammy's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, checking that his brother was alive, finally falling asleep when he was sure his brother was okay. Sammy always hogged the blankets then, too-

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes flew open in shock; he'd thought Sam was asleep already!

"What, Sammy?"

"I...need to go to the toilet."

Dean sat up and flicked the light on in annoyance. Sam stuck his head under the pillows, trying to avoid the bright lights that burned his unadjusted eyes, but Dean pulled him out.

"Are you kidding me?! I asked you before, and you said you'd already gone!"

Sam squirmed out of his grip, breathing heavily.

"Yeah, but now I gotta, you know..." he gestured wildly, and Dean looked on in confusion.

"What?!"

"I gotta _pee_!" Sam said hotly. Dean rolled his eyes, then gestured towards the ensuite bathroom.

Sam leapt off the bed and padded towards it, turning on all the lights as he went. Dean heard the dull clunk of the seat hitting the toilet, then silence. He waited patiently, then sighed and craned his neck towards the door.

"You _sure_ you don't need any help?"

Sam heard his brother get up, and his eyes widened in panic.

"Don't come in, don't come in!" he shrieked. He heard Dean laugh softly, then the footsteps retreated. Sam waited for a few more seconds, then frowned.

"Stop listening!" he called. "I can't _go_ if you're _listening_!"

"What are you, five?!" Dean retorted, but Sam heard his brother start humming the theme song for a TV show nevertheless.

A few minutes later Dean heard the toilet flush, and Sam was running full-pelt towards the bed. He bombed onto it, making the pillows and blanket bounce onto the ground. Sam laughed as Dean got out of bed and gathered them all up, before dumping them on top of Sam, who yelled as he tried to fight his way out of the mess.

_Great, now he's never gonna go to sleep, _Dean thought wryly.

Sure enough, five minutes later, after Sam had fastidiously smoothed out all the blankets, they were still talking. And then Dean remembered something, something he'd forgotten during the confusion of Sam's little...performance.

"Sammy, what did you mean when you said you knew you were seven, 'cause of the way you felt?" Dean asked slowly.

Dean felt his brother stir beside him, until they were back to back.

"Well...I can't exactly remember much that happened, when I was little," Sam began. Dean didn't say anything, so Sam continued. "I mean, I remember demons and stuff, things we hunted, but I don't have many memories of much else. Family stuff." Dean sighed sadly as Sam paused, not wanting to inform his brother that that was because they'd never _done_ any family stuff.

"But I..._do_ remember that dad left us alone a lot that year. And...you would always look after me, doing all the stuff he would do to look after us, and more."

Dean was surprised to feel his eyes stinging.

_Wow, must be more tired than I thought, _he tried to convince himself.

It didn't work.

"Oh, that makes sense," is all he said. Sam sighed heavily; he'd thought Dean would open up to him, now that he was smaller, less imposing.

"Night Dean," he repeated sadly.

Dean waited until his brother's breathing slowed down, then turned and lay his head on Sam's chest, feeling it rise and fall rhythmically, hearing the steady heart beat. Smiling to himself, he settled his head back down on his pillow.

"Night, Sammy."

* * *

A/N: Okay, that's the...third chapter up. Then again, you'd know thta by now, if you were reading this...anyway, hope you enjoyed! I'm not exactly sure how long this is going to be; I have a few ideas for some more chapters, so just hang in there, all right? I have no idea who came up with the song 'Incy Wincy Spider', so props to them anyway...if anyone finds out, let me know : ) Again, thanks to all those who reviewed! xxsurexx


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. If it did, there'd be alot more shirtless scenes : )

* * *

"Dean, you're snoring!"

Dean scrunched his eyes up, trying to grab hold of the last wisps of sleepiness that were still in his reach.

_Five more minutes, please Sammy, just five...more...min-_

"Argh!" Dean sat up, clapping his hands to his eye. "What the hell, Sammy?! Why'd you poke me in the eye?!"

Sam leapt back, his face apologetic.

"Dean I'm sorry but you wouldn't shut up! Look, I brought coffee!"

Dean brightened at the thought, but his mood quickly darkened as he caught sight of the time on his mobile.

"Sammy, do you know what time it is?" he growled slowly. Usually Sam would've recognised this as Dean's 'don't-mess-with-me-I-haven't-had-my-coffee' voice, but he was too busy tidying the room up.

"Yeah, it's 7:30. Why?"

"7:30," Dean said, each syllable accompanied by a twitch of his non-sore eye, "In my book, is still night time. Which means sleeping, and snoring, and dreams. Not...pokes in the eye!" Dean fell back with a groan as Sam pulled the string to the blinds, which shot open with a loud 'whirring' noise.

"But Dean, we have to get moving!" Sam insisted, holding Dean's eyes open with his fingers. Dean tried to blink as his eyes started watering painfully.

"Oh, fine!" he yelled, sitting up. Sam sat back with a grin, hands folded behind his back.

"You said you had coffee?"

Sam immediately brightened. He had woken up half an hour ago, craving the holy nectar that determined how the rest of his day would be. CoffeeHappy, perky Sammy. No coffeemood swings and sulky Sammy. So it was in the best interests of _everyone_ that Sam got his daily caffeine intake!

This particular morning had been a little troublesome, Sam had to admit. He'd realised from experience that most people, namely Dean, were still dead to the world at that time. So instead of disturbing Ellen, Sam had slipped (literally...he'd lost the belt) into a pair of the ridiculous clothes Dean had found, grabbed some cash, and was out the door before you could say 'coffee-addict'. There had only been one place that sold the drink within walking distance, and they'd been a little reluctant to sell it to an unsupervised kid. But Sam had given them that smile, you know, the one that's _irresistible_, and he was soon padding down the street, grinning, two cups of coffee richer.

Sam fetched the now warm, rather than 'I-fink-ah-burnt-ma-tongff hot', and passed it to Dean, who downed it in one gulp. Dean shook his head roughly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Ah, that's better. Now, what's the rush, Sammy?"

Sam opened his mouth, then paused, looking slightly confused.

"There..._is_ a reason why you woke me up, isn't there?" Dean asked slowly. Sam blushed and coughed loudly.

"Um...no, not really. But I thought, you know, 'cause we're up and all, we should go for a walk! Or something..."

Dean fought down the urge to throttle his younger brother, and managed to restrain himself. Just.

"Okay, Sammy, here's the deal. You find something to do for an hour. Colour in, play with dolls, pick your nose, whatever. But when that times up, you come and get me and we'll see what we can find out about this fairy problem we have. Meanwhile, I'm gonna try and get what little shut-eye I can."

With that Dean crossed his arms and leant back, eyes closed. Sam studied his brother for a moment, checking to see if he was serious, then left the room, muttering.

"That's so gross. Did you really pick your nose when you were my age? Sick, Dean, more than I needed to know..."

---

"Nothing."

"What?"

"There's nothing, nada, diddly-squat, zero, zip, take your pick. Whatever you wanna call it, Dean, there is nothing even remotely useful in any of the books we've looked at. Face it, we're screwed."

Sam sat back with a defeated sigh, throwing his latest book down on the table. Dean glanced at his serious face and smirked.

"I can't believe you said the word 'diddly'!" he sniggered. Sam rolled his eyes, smiling apologetically at the annoyed people who looked to see what the commotion was. They turned away, a little unnerved by the kid who acted and spoke like an adult.

"Could you try to be serious for a minute here Dean? If we don't find a cure, I might be stuck like this. Forever." Sam pulled despondently at his shirt, which was at least three sizes too big.

Dean tapped his chin thoughtfully, looking around the musty library. Sammy was looking pale and tired; they'd been in here for two hours already, looking non-stop through whatever mythological book they could find for anything in reference to the rogue fairy.

"I have an idea," Dean suddenly said slowly. Sam looked at him, biting back a sarcastic response, and giving in when Dean kept quiet.

"Oh, really? Care to share it with the class?" Sam asked sardonically.

"You gonna give me a detention if I don't?" Dean laughed at his joke, the stopped when he saw Sammy's unsmiling face. "Well, I figured we've been working long enough. Why not take a break?"

"That's your big idea?" Sam asked disbelievingly, but Dean noticed his brother had sat up a little straighter.

_Maybe the kid's not such a nerd after all..._

"Yeah," Dean grinned encouragingly. "Why not? It'll give our minds a break, we can come back refreshed, more alert."

Sam still looked uncertain, but he hopped down from his chair nonetheless.

"I guess we could take a _little_ break."

---

"Dean, Dean check this out, look at me!"

Sam waved at his big brother impatiently, his calls for attention getting louder as Dean failed to respond. Frowning, Sam climbed down the park's ladder and ran over to his brother, puffing from the exertion.

"Why weren't you looking, Dean?" he asked curiously.

Dean, who had been staring at a couple young single mums, turned to look down into the confused face of his younger brother. Sam had hit another of those mood swings, running around with _way_ too much energy.

"Oh, I was Sammy, I really was," Dean lied sweetly. He gave Sam a little push back in the direction of the playground. "You go show me again anyway. Promise I won't take my eyes off you."

Sam grinned, then took off at a run towards the slide.

Dean watched him go, laughing as his little brother tripped and stumbled with all the grace of a newborn foal. _Grown up Sammy isn't much better! I guess some things, like stealth, just come naturally to some, while to others they...well, don't._

"You're good with him. Is he your son?"

Dean turned to look at the young woman who had crept up behind him, unnoticed in the bustle of the playground. She was holding the hand of a small girl, whose face was set in a seemingly permanent frown.

"Oh, no, he's my younger brother," Dean said smoothly. "But, you know, he's such a great kid, I love hanging out with him! I'd want a son like him some day."

Meanwhile, back by the slide, Sam had reached the top of the slide once more, only to realise Dean wasn't watching. Sam frowned as he watched Dean shamelessly flirt with the single mum.

_Doesn't he realise how hard this is for me in this body? Well, I'll teach him._

Sam carefully slipped over to the slide's edge, trying to go down as slowly as possible. Suddenly he fell, sliding down the slippery silver surface on his stomach. Squealing, he reached the bottom, checking his body expertly for injuries. Once he'd determined he was all in one piece, Sam ran towards Dean, throwing his arms around the older man's waist.

"Dean, I told you to watch and you didn't, and then I _hurt_ myself!" he wailed, the fake tears seeping out of his scrunched up eyes.

Dean looked down in alarm, feeling the back of his neck go red with embarrassment as the mum looked on in amusement.

"Hang on a sec, I'll fix this and be back with you in a sec," Dean hastily reassured her, before pulling Sam aside.

"Okay, Sammy, where does it hurt?" he asked anxiously.

Sam glared at him, his bunched up fists on his hips, a picture of indignation.

"Nothing, Dean. Do you seriously think I'd hurt myself falling down a slide? Oh, wait, you wouldn't know that's what happened, 'cause you weren't looking!" Sam accused.

Dean was about to apologise, when he fully took in what Sam said.

"Wait, you fell down a _slide_?" Dean scoffed.

Sam flushed furiously, looking down at his scuffed trainers.

"Whatever, Dean, that's not important. But I'm not gonna stand by and watch you set yourself up for another one night stand if you're not gonna watch me do one measly little thing!" Sam yelled dramatically, punctuating his speech with several arm flourishes.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully.

"Okay Sammy, here's the thing. You help me with this, then I'll do whatever you want. We can play on the playground, eat dirt, whatever you say. Deal?"

Sam measured Dean up, then nodded. Dean spat onto his hand and stuck it out, grinning. Sam grimaced, backing away so fast he almost tripped.

"Dean, that's disgusting, get it away from me!"

Dean laughed loudly, wiping his hand on his jeans.

"I guess some things never change. C'mon."

They walked back to the mother and her girl, Sam with a childish grin on his face.

"Hi, my name's Sam, what's yours?" he said as soon as they got within hearing distance of the pair. The mother bent down, one hand stretched out.

"I'm Monica. Nice to meet you, Sam!"

They shook hands, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the way Sam had the lady eating out of his tiny hands.

"This is Dean, my big brother. He's my bestest friend in the whole world, he plays toy cars and monsters with me whenever I want!" Sam said earnestly. Monica laughed, grinning at Dean, who shrugged modestly, as if to say 'what can I say, the kid's adorable!'.

"Well, this is my daughter, Lisa. Lisa, say hello!"

Lisa stared sullenly at Dean, but a small smile appeared on her face as she saw Sam. Sam grinned back, his instinctive good nature kicking in, but something about that smile made him feel uneasy. The feeling increased as Dean pushed him forward gently.

"I have an idea! Sam, why don't you play a game with Lisa on the playground?" Dean suggested jovially.

Sam looked up at Dean, the unbridled terror on his face unseen by Lisa and Monica.

"Sure, but can I have a hug before I go?" Sam asked through gritted teeth, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Monica let a little coo of adoration as Sam threw his arms around Dean's neck. Dean gave her a thumbs-up sign, trying not to let on that Sam was choking him.  
"You owe me so much more than an ice-cream now, Dean!" Sam hissed. Then Lisa was pulling his arm, crying out joyfully.

"C'mon, Sam, let's go play Mums and Dads!"

Dean stood next to Monica, rubbing his neck distractedly. The two watched their respective child, united in a feeling of fellowship that came with the responsibility of childcare.

"Wow, kids these days. Always in such a hurry to grow up."

Monica laughed, then glanced flirtatiously at Dean.

"Here, let me give you my number. We should meet up sometime..."

---

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Shuddup, Sammy!" Dean growled, staring fixatedly out the window, so Sam couldn't see the humiliated expression on his face.

"Aw, c'mon Dean, you gotta admit it's pretty funny! I mean, you thought she was flirting with you, and she was really looking for a babysitter!" Sam cracked up laughing, so hard he choked on his ice cream.

Dean glared at him.

_Aim for his weakness, Dean..._

"You be quiet or I'll take away your dessert," he warned, and Sam immediately fell quiet, pulling the promised bowl of chocolate ice cream (with sprinkles) protectively closer to him.

"Besides, I'd have thought you'd be a much better babysitter, considering how well the two of you got along today!Little Lisa seemed to have a thing for you."

Sam grimaced, licking his spoon and getting a spot of ice cream of his nose. He waved the spoon around self-importantly, and Dean fought the urge to wipe the spot off.

"Don't remind me Dean! That girl has _issues_," Sam shuddered.

Suddenly a waitress came over, beaming at them. Dean automatically leaned forward, searching her with his eyes. She was extraordinarily pretty, not in a slather-on-the-makeup kind of way; more natural. She was also younger, around Sammy's age...well, the Old Sammy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean was interested to see Sammy's eyes widen.

"Uh, no we're fine here," Dean said pleasantly, still watching Sammy, who gulped, eyes fixed on his bowl. The waitress turned to Sam, brightening at the endearing little customer.

"And can I get anything for you?" she cooed, crouching down to Sam's head height. He glanced at her, then Dean, who smiled encouragingly.

"Uh, hi, I'm Sam." He stuck a hand out, then realised it was all sticky, and blushed. She took it anyway, unable to hide her mirth.

"What a gentleman, Sam! There aren't many guys like you left in the world, I must say! I'm Sally."

Sam coughed embarrassedly, running a hand through his hair, then smiled nervously.

"So, Sally, I was wondering, I mean I know we just met, but I was thinking, if you weren't doing anything this weekend...?"

Sam trailed off as Sally laughed, clasping a hand to her chest as her body shook.

"Oh," she cried as she wiped away a tear. "Sir, this boy is absolutely _precious_! I don't know what you're feeding him, but it's working!" With one last laugh she walked away. Dean glanced over at Sammy, who was sitting there, frozen. Suddenly the younger boy slumped over in his seat, hiding his face in his hands.

"What happened Dean? Why'd she..._laugh_ like that? I mean, you gave me the nod, didn't you? The 'she's interested, go ahead' nod!" Sam peered at his older brother through his fingers. Dean got up and walked around to Sammy's chair, patting the boy on the back.

"Sammy," he said consolingly, "That was a 'yeah, I know she's hot' nod. We really need to work on our sign language! I would never have moved if I thought you would try something like that!" Dean shook his head regretfully, flinching as he replayed the moment over in his head. "But seriously, she's about twenty-two. You're seven. That's _illegal_ in most countries!"

Sam hopped down from his chair, leaving the rest of his ice cream unfinished, to melt despondently in its bowl. Dean followed him, running to catch up.

"I guess it just wasn't our day, huh?" he sighed, pulling Sammy out of the way of an oncoming car. Sam shook himself, brushing his clothes off.

"I guess it wasn't."

---

Sam pulled Dean into the shop. Dean dug his heels into the ground, clawed at the door frame, anything to stop from entering. But Sam had a purpose, and wouldn't give up until he had his way.

"Dean, you _have_ to come! You have the money, and you can help me...with stuff," Sam finished lamely, hoping to appeal to his older brother's better nature.

"Sammy, I don't shop for clothes. Ever." Dean said firmly, shuddering as he peered around the shop's front. Racks and racks of shirts, pants and jumpers lined the walls and floor. It was _sickening_.

"Aw, c'mon Dean, do you have any idea how _uncomfortable_ these are?" Sam whinged, pulling at his loose top and pants. Dean stared at him, then sighed.

"Fine, Sammy, but you've only got half an hour. Tops."

"Exactly!" Sam cried, running into the store. Dean followed with a groan.

_I think I like Big Sammy better. He would never have made me do this._

"We need tops, and pants and shorts and shirts!" Sam cried, waddling around the racks. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his threadbare shoes, old jacket and stained shirt. Things had been so busy lately he hadn't had time to do the washing, and he was regretting it now.

"I think these are your size," he gabbled, grabbing a few tops and shorts and throwing them in his little brother's direction. Sam snatched them up and headed for the change rooms. Dean followed, darting awkward glances around the almost empty store.

"You right in there?" he called after a few minutes of thumps and yelps from Sam's stall.

"Uh, Dean? I think you better come in here," Sam said finally. Dean rolled his eyes, then pushed the unlocked door open.

"What Sammy-" Dean stopped as he took in the mess. Sam's shorts and top were lying discarded on the ground. He had a pair of new shorts on, which Dean noticed fit him quite well, if a little on the large side. The problem was higher; Sam had his arms twisted above his head, the shirt half-on, half-off him.

"What's the problem Sammy?"

Sam turned towards the voice, walking into a wall by accident.

"What do you think, Dean?" he asked sarcastically. "There's a button caught in my hair!"

Dean sniggered as he moved forward to help, eyes screwed up in concentration as he surveyed the damage. Finding the source of the problem, he twisted the strand of brown hair, ignoring Sammy's squeals, until the top came loose, pulling it over Sam's head.

"Well, at least it fits okay. You know, I at least thought I'd be able to trust you to change yourself," Dean added as a last minute jab. Sam glared at him, then grinned.

"Yeah, well, lucky I have you around, isn't it _Mum_?" he teased. Dean laughed, but he felt a hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Sam watched as his brother left, promising to stay right outside if he was needed. Sam changed into the next top, relieved to see it was button-less, mulling over what had just happened. He had seen Dean's face when he mentioned the 'M' word, upset to see his brother so distressed. He'd have to find a way to cheer Dean up, Sam decided. With that mission in mind, he changed into his normal clothes, and left to purchase something that actually _fit_ him.

* * *

AN: Okay, end of chapter four...wow, this is really dragging on, isn't it? This chapter wasn't as good as some of the others, but please don't give up on me, I'm working on the next part! Don't you just want a mini-Sammy? Aw...anyway, thanks to the reviewers, nice to know you like it! Sorry if this one was a bit random... 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural...someday, maybe, but not yet...

* * *

Sam stared wide-eyed at his creation. 

He supposed that, if you tilted your head to the left and squinted, it would resemble a gun. Then again, it also looked a bit like a horse.

_I'll tidy it up a bit, and then let him decide what it is meant to be, _Sam thought firmly. _But before he sees it, I must apply...the icing!_

Sam cheered up at the thought. If you asked Dean, he would tell you that a cake wasn't a cake if it didn't have icing. Sam secretly agreed with him, although he'd never admit it out loud.

He glanced at the bowl of melted chocolate that lay beside him and hesitated. Although he may be able to read a vast amount of Latin, knew how to exorcise a demon using about five different rituals, and knew how to use a gun, he wasn't exactly the world's greatest chef.

He wasn't exactly world's _anything_ chef.

But he'd done the hard part, making and baking the cake, so the icing should be easy as pie after that, shouldn't it?

Sam giggled at his little joke as he poured the icing over the cake, watching it run down the sides. He frowned; it was a little uneven, piling up in places, while other remained bare. Still, he supposed that wouldn't affect the taste.

Sam climbed off the stool, reaching up and pulling the large plate off the kitchen's counter. Grunting with the effort, he staggered a little, as the width of the plate was s lightly larger than his arm's length.

The problems started piling up a second later. First, as Sam fought to support the plate as he walked out of the kitchen, Sam's long fringe fell into his eyes. His forehead creased in frustration as he blew, aiming the gust of air to keep it out of his eyes. Nevertheless, it took much head-tossing and exhaling before the pesky strand was taken care of. And even then, he almost fell over twice.

The second problem was opening doors. Sam groaned as he reached his and Dean's rooms. If someone else had been around he'd surely have been able to ask them for help, but Ellen's roadhouse was temporarily deserted, excusing him and Dean.

Sam placed the plate on the ground, muttering darkly.

"Stupid people, no one's around when you need them, but when they _are_ all they do is talk. 'Oh, Sammy, when did you get so small, har har har, I didn't recognise you there.' and 'Oh, Sammy would you like a bottle, or a nappy, har har har.' It's freakin' _Sam_!"

With that last yell he turned the handle, shoving the door open. He breathed heavily from the exertion, before bending over and picking the plate up. He heaved it over to the bed, looking around for Dean. Where had his brother gone? After they'd gotten back form the clothes shop Dean had disappeared into their bedroom, and Sam had decided to bake a cake. Dean loved chocolate, and Sam had been hoping to cheer his brother up. After all, whenever he was upset Dean was always there for him, whether he wanted help or not, to try and cheer Sam up. Sam was determined to do the same.

"Is that for me?"

Sam jumped in surprise as Dean entered the room, barging through the door, his eyes lighting up hungrily at the sight of the chocolate-smothered cake. Before Sam could say a word Dean effortlessly lifted the plate, placing it on a desk.

Sam ran up to him, not wanting to go unnoticed.

"Yeah, Dean, I made it for you."

Dean grinned down at him, before lifting him onto the desk next to the cake.

"Hey, thanks Sammy!"

Sam's eyes widened in disgust as Dean reached out a hand and grabbed a fistful of the chocolaty goodness.

"Dude, that's gross! There's a knife in the kitchen, use that!"

Dean froze, looking first at his hand then at Sammy.

"Bah ip ooked oh good!" he protested, mouth full and stained.

Sam shook his head, but he was grinning.

"Sure, whatever. Just don't get crumbs everywhere, okay? I'm not cleaning up after you."

Sam hopped down from the desk, so he didn't see Dean choke with laughter.

Dean wiped his watering eyes, still grinning.

"Man, some things never change."

Sam ran top the middle of the floor, then sat down, cross-legged, forehead furrowed. Dean watched him with interest, temporarily forgetting about the cake.

"What are you doing, Sammy?"

Sam waved a small hand at him in frustration.

"I'm trying to think, Dean."

"Oh," Dean replied, his mood dampened. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

He turned back to the cake, which he had to admit was pretty good. Although the icing was a bit patchy. He squinted at the cake. If you pretended the massive gaping hole he'd ripped out from it was still there, and tilted your head to the left, it kind of resembled a gun. Then again, it also looked a bit like a rabbit.

He shrugged, taking another, but smaller, handful.

Okay, _definitely_ a rabbit.

"Don't you want some, Sammy?"

No response.

Dean shrugged, groaning as he stretched. These past few weeks had been weird...but everything would soon go back to normal. Just as soon as they figured out how to kill that freakin' fairy!

"Dean," Sam asked hesitantly. Dean rolled his eyes. Lately his little brother had been acting so _weird..._well, weirder than was normal, for them...anyway, he'd been kinda tiptoeing around Dean, and he found he didn't like it one bit.

"Yeah Sammy?"

Sam paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say, without making Dean retreat into his protective shell.

"Dean, we need to talk about the fairy. And your wish."

Dean winced as he turned to face Sammy's honest, young face. The younger boy stared back, unblinking, but obviously nervous.

Dean had known the day would come when they'd talk about this, but he'd hoped the time of questioning wouldn't come until...well, _never_. The real problem was that he couldn't seem to stop himself from being honest, when it came to his...thoughts on the matter. Not that he would've lied, more that he'd prefer to keep his mouth shut.

"Sure, Sammy, whatever you want."

_Damn stupid mouth, not listening to a single damn thing my damn brain tells it to say!_

Sam smiled tentatively, wondering how to go about this. When he confronted Dean, things usually ended up with them yelling about something completely different. 'No, _you_ drank the last beer' could just as easily turn into 'I just want to be normal, okay?'.  
"Dean, I think I might have figured out the fairies weakness...but first I need you to tell me about your wish."

Dean lay back in his bed, trying to get away from Sammy's piercing stare. _I have a better idea Sammy. Why don't we go teach a pit bull how to tap dance? It'll be much more productive_, he thought irritatedly. His mouth, however, had other plans for him.

"I dunno Sammy. It kinda just happened...I didn.t really wish for anything. She was talking about our greatest desires, and I guess I just found myself thinking about you, and how all this has messed up our lives. Hunting, I mean. Although she couldn.t have read my mind all that well, seeing as what I was _really_ dying for was a pie. Man, I was _starving_! But seriously, I never wanted this to hap-" Dean finally stuffed a corner of the blanket into his mouth, stopping off his desperate gabbling.

_Man, it's like, like verbal diarrhoea or something! Why won't I shut up? Okay, note to self; steer clear of any topics relating to the freakin' fairy..._

Dean wasn't the only surprised one; Sam was sitting there, stunned, staring at his suddenly sharing brother.

"O-kay, Dean, thankyou for your, uh, co-operation... basically, you wished for me to need you again," Sam paused for some recognition. Dean just nodded once, his eyes screwed shut, as if that would make the humiliation go away.

"So," Sam continued, talking unusually fast. Although Dean didn't know it, he was just as uncomfortable as his brother was. "She turned me into an age where I would be physically and emotionally dependant on you." Sam stopped, face creased in thought.

Dean cranked open one eye, blanket still choking up his mouth. Where did his brother come _up_ with this stuff?

Suddenly Sam sighed, toddling over to the bed, so his head was next to Dean's, his face morose.

"I think I know how to stop her...but I don't think you're gonna like it."

---

Ellen glanced at Dean, her face concerned. He looked up and saw her watching, his face breaking into a drunken grin.

"Ellen," he called, patting the stool beside him. "Come, come join poor old Dean, all on his lonesome. You know why that is," he added darkly, as she sat down on the stool. "It's because I turned my drinking partner into a seven-year-old."

He downed his beer depressingly, before Ellen snatched it away. His face took on a look of childish confusion.

"Hey...I was, uh, drinking that? Yeah, I was!" he prodded the bar to emphasize his point. Ellen just shook her head sadly.

"What's up, Dean? I haven't seen you this drunk since you last thought Sam had run away."

Dean shivered as he remembered, the thought sobering him up.

"If anything had happened to Sammy, I would never have forgiven myself," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Which is why I can't let anything happen to him now."

He drew in a deep breath, before turning to face Ellen. _It was a pity his dad had caused so much trouble between their families_, Dean thought slowly. _It would've been great growing up with someone like Ellen watching over us._

"Ellen, Sammy figured out how to defeat this thing," he informed her. Ellen let out a little exclamation of surprise.

"What! Well, then, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out, kicking some fairy butt?"

Dean sighed heavily, trying to disguise his snort of laughter. He cleared his throat loudly when he caught Ellen staring at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, that's the problem," he growled. "There's a catch. It turns out this fairy chick doesn't actually have any defences, any spells or traps or poison darts," Dean paused, taking a deep breath. "She's actually quite a tricky sunnova...anyway, turns out her safety net is that she grants people their desires. If they hurt her, their wishes come undone. You following me?" Ellen shot Dean a 'I'm-not-a-simpleton-you-simpleton' look, so Dean carried on. "By the time people realise her wishes aren't...well, all that great, it's too late. They're dead."

Ellen shook her head grimly, grabbing another two beers, handing one to Dean and opening one for herself.

"Well, what's the problem? It's not too late for you guys, is it? Has anything serious happened?"

Dean shook his head, wondering how to explain the next part.

"The thing is, I'm not sure if we should undo it."

He waited patiently while Ellen choked on her drink, patting her gently on the back as she tried to regain her composure. She shrugged him off angrily, glaring at him.

"Are you outta your mind, Dean?! Why the hell would Sam prefer living like _this_, when he could be returned to normal?!"

Dean sighed. It had sounded alright in his head, but speaking it out loud made it seem kinda...stupid.

"Yeah. I mean, think about it Ellen! Sammy can have a new life now, one free of hunting and nightmares and knowing that no matter where you go, you'll never be safe, not ever!" Dean sat back, breathing heavily, sitting agitatedly. Ellen stared levelly at him.

"And where will you be in all of this, Dean?"

Dean bowed his head, trying to hide the tears that welled in his eyes.

"I'll be watching over him Ellen, from a distance. But I think it'd be better if he was raised by someone normal, with experience, who'd be able to give him the future he deserves." Dean took another sip of beer, anything to force back the lump in his throat that formed whenever he thought of living without Sammy, his pain in the ass, irreplaceable little brother.

Ellen looked around the room thoughtfully, then turned to Dean.

And hit him on the head.

"Argh, what the hell, Ellen! I didn't touch him!" was Dean's immediate reaction, his own misery forgotten. Ellen stood up, staring at him gravely.

"Just think about this, Dean. While you're sitting here, selfishly thinking that you know what's best for Sam, try putting yourself in his shoes. How do you think he'd react to the news that he was being offered a chance to start over...but only if he severed his ties with you? I think we both know the answer to that one." Ellen paused, then added, just in case he hadn't gotten her point; "He'd tell you to go get stuffed. Well, not in those words exactly, but even I know he wouldn't like that idea."

Dean watched morosely as Ellen walked off, her presence still felt in the dull throbbing of his head.

He sighed, something he'd found, to his annoyance, he'd been doing quite a lot lately. The whole 'brooding Winchester' thing was more Sammy's area, he decided, and it was as if he had physically discarded a shroud of doom and depression. His mood lightened, and he turned to check out the occupants of the bar, his eyes alighting on a particularly well-rounded girl by the pool table. He grinned as she winked at him.

He had a purpose now, an action plan. For now, that was good enough.

It had to be.

---

Sam walked around the thing on the ground, stopping every now and then to give it the evil eye.

"It's just you and me now," he muttered darkly, crouching down, his hands on his knees, glaring at the object intimidatingly. It had the nerve to just sit there, openly defying his threat. With a large 'hi-yah!' Sam kicked it across the room, laughing victoriously as it hit the wall with a satisfying 'thud'.

"That'll teach you to not succumb to my, uh, braveness!" Sam yelled at it, strutting the length of the room. Suddenly the big light flicked on, and he froze mid-strut.

"Sammy? What the hell is going on here?"

Sam slowly let his arms fall to his side, all too aware that his brother had just walked in on him walking around like a chicken.

"Uh, nothing Dean, nothing at all." he said innocently, blinking up at his big brother, who now loomed over him. Sam sighed. He looked forward to the day when _he_ would once more be the one who did the looming.

"Alright Sammy, just don't let me catch you doing 'nothing' again. It's creepy."

Sam grinned as Dean loped over to the only chair in the room, over which he'd slung his jacket. He dug around in the pockets now, smirking triumphantly as he pulled out a wad of money.

Sam gasped in surprise, scrambling over to his brother.

"Dean, where'd you get that from?!"

Dean patted him on the head condescendingly.

"Doesn't matter where it _came_ from, Sammy, it just matters how we spend it. Well, how _I _spend it." Sam pouted as he realised what his big brother was saying.

"That's not fair, Dean, I wanna go...wherever _you're_ going!"

Dean laughed, shoving Sam over gently.

"Uh uh, you're too small-hey, what's your top doing on the ground by the wall?"

Sam glared at his arch-enemy as Dean picked it up, brandishing it at his little brother. The top was hanging limply, seemingly defeated, but Sam knew it was biding it's time. Waiting until he tried to put it on, and then-wham!-it would get caught in his hair, get stuck on his head, trick him into putting his head through one of the impossibly-small arm holes...Sam shuddered. No, it wouldn't get him this time.

"It's itchy, Dean. Can't I just sleep nudie?"

Dean blanched as Sam beamed toothily up at him.

"No, Sammy, you can't sleep...nudie. Here, I'll help you."

_Man, his brain is really deteriorating fast! _Dean thought worriedly as he helped Sammy struggle into his PJ top, listening to the seven-year-olds plaintive cries.

_He's acting really immature, less and less like himself. I don't think we have much time left._

Dean picked Sam up and carried him to the bed, plonking his younger brother down.

"Okay Sammy, I've gotta go out and get some things, I'll be back in about an hour, okay? So don't worry about me, you just go to sleep."

Sam yawned widely, so that Dean could see his little tonsils.

"I'll be fine Dean. You go...I can...look after...me...self..."

Dean snorted as Sam fell asleep, wishing he could join his little brother, instead of venturing into the night and trying to find the things he needed.

Sam waited until he heard the door creak open, then click shut. He listened, ears straining, until Dean's footsteps faded out of hearing range.

And then he stopped snoring, sitting up and ripping the uncomfortable top off, chucking it onto the ground.

"That'll teach you to itch me!" he grumbled, before brightening. "Hey, I took my shirt off, and I didn't even need Dean to help me!"

Sam noticed two things. First was that he was talking to himself, something he'd found himself doing more and more ever since he'd been...shrunk. He rambled on just like...a little kid.

The second thing happened soon after the first, but Sam wasn't aware of any change. Not until he tried to sit up.

And found he couldn't.

_What's happening? Oh no, I can't move! Dean? Dean, help!_

But all that came out was a gurgled; "Oove, oove! Deano..."

Sam felt the tears coming again, but this time he didn't try stop them. He was utterly helpless, and there was nothing he could do but wait for Dean to come back.

Whenever that would be.

----

Dean whistled softly to himself as he padded down the hall, his arms laden with big brown paper bags. He'd found everything he'd needed, and in just under two hours! Quite a feat, if he did say so himself.

He stopped when he got the door, wondering how to go about this. Shrugging, he leaned to the left slightly, balancing the bags on top of one another, reaching his now-free right hand to open the door.

He crept into the room, placing the bags as silently as he could onto the desk. Even so, the bags rustled a bit more than he would have liked. He glanced over at the hopefully still asleep Sammy...and gasped. (In a very un-manly way.)

"Sammy...what the hell _happened_ to you!"

* * *

A/N: Heh heh, what's wrong with Sammy? Poor baby...ahem Right, then...this'll probably ...maybe..._hopefully_ be finishing up soon, just to let you know. Oh, I just watched 'All Hell Breaks Loose Part One' (Australia is a bit behind...) and oh my god. Just...oh my GOD! It was sooooooo good...can't wait 'til next week! Yes...so, thanks again to my reviewers, it's great to hear your praise and criticism...oh, who am I kidding, the criticism sucks. But still, being shown what can be imropoved on is a big help, so thanks, and I'm babbling aren't I? And you can't actually answer that question, can you? Sorry, I'm just _really_ tired...Okay, hope you enjoyed, and please review! xxsurexx 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from Supernatural.

_

* * *

_

_"Mary, he's beautiful!" John breathed, gazing adoringly at the latest addition to their family. Baby Sam chuckled, wrapping his hands around his father's large thumb, in a grip that promised he'd never let go._

_"Hiya, Sam, I'm your dad! And this is Mary, your mum. She's the most beautiful lady in the entire world, you know."_

_As if he understood, Sam craned his neck in Mary's direction. She smiled tiredly,_ _holding out her arms. John obliged, passing the child over to her. Sam was now one month old, and the proud parents never grew tired of fussing over him. Suddenly Sam started crying, his eyes scrunching up, his hands balling into fists, his mouth opening in a wailing scream, distressing his parents to no end. Mary desperately cradled Sam in her arms, rocking him gently back and forth, but to no avail._

_"Sammy!"_

_The trio all looked up in surprise, little Sam quieting at the sound of his brother's voice, blinking emphatically. Dean rushed into the room, bellowing loudly as he gestured towards his brother._

_"Mum, dad, can I hold him? Can I? _Please_?"_

_Mary glanced first at Dean's pleading face, then to John. He nodded, smiling broadly. Dean jumped up in triumph, punching the air energetically. It had taken weeks of wheedling and begging, but his efforts were now about to be rewarded; he was going to hold his baby brother!_

_"Gently now," Mary warned in alarm, as Dean grabbed Sam. But she didn't have to worry, because he held the baby as if Sam were the most precious thing in the world._

_"Hey Sammy! I'm your big brother. You don't have to worry about anything, okay? I'm gonna look after you, 'cause that's what big brothers do. So you just be a good boy and sleep, okay? And when you wake up again we can play!"_

_Dean continued talking mindlessly, and to Mary and John's amazement, Sam's eyes slowly started to droop, the fingers unclenched, until Sam's head fell limply against Dean's chest._

_"Mum, dad, he's dead!" Dean cried, his eyes wide with horror. Mary laughed softly, taking the slumbering baby from Dean's arms. He resisted at first, then reluctantly let go._

_"No, Dean, he's just sleeping," John said, pulling his eldest son into a tight hug._

_"But he's so quiet!" Dean said wonderingly, staring at his brother through his father's arms. "All he's done is cry since he got home."_

_"Yes, but you got him to sleep, didn't you?" Mary softly praised, and Dean beamed. He struggled out of his father's embrace, running over to Sam's side. He took the little boy's hand, which curled around one of Dean's fingers on impulse._

_"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" he cried. Then, he bent over, speaking softly in Sam's ear. "I'm gonna be the best big brother you ever had, Sammy. I'll never let anyone hurt you."_

_And it may have been a coincidence, but Dean could have sworn a smile appeared on baby Sam's face._

_---_

Dean slowly resurfaced from his flash-back as Sam wriggled slowly in his arms, making soft snoring noises. He was reliving that memory, over twenty three years later, something which was so undeniably _wrong_.

The worst part was he hadn't upheld his side of the bargain.

He'd let Sammy get hurt.

"Dean, I came as soon as you called, is he-"

Ellen stopped as she saw Dean cradling the baby in his arms. His face was tired; he looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet. Every now and then he would shake his head and clear his throat, forcing himself to stay conscious, but every time was just a little harder than the last.

"Ellen, I don't know what's going on. I left for a few hours, when I came back he was a baby.. A freakin' baby, Ellen! I mean, how did this even happen? I didn't wish for this, I never _wanted_ this!"

Ellen did the only thing she could to help; she took the slumbering Sam gently from Dean's arms, leaving the man free to sit down on the bed, his head in his hands.

"Ellen, I don't know what to do. I'm so used to acting all macho and crap in front of Sammy, I even tease him when he doesn't, but everything...life isn't meant to be this hard, you know? We're heroes, and this is our reward. I'm starting to think leaving Sammy like this would be best for him."

"Dean, you're tired, so I'm going to let that one slide. Also, my hands are full, so I can't exactly hit you. But think before you speak, okay? You have a good head on those shoulders, and you know what's best for Sammy is staying with you." Ellen shook her head sadly, settling down next to Dean. They looked at Sam...

And he looked back at them.

"Argh!" Dean cried, falling off the bed in his shock. Ellen almost dropped the baby, but stopped herself just in time.

"Really, Dean, you need to get a hold of yourself...you shouldn't scare so easily!" she reprimanded Dean sternly, her own pulse racing a mile a minute. Dean ignored her, taking Sam in his own hands again.

"Damn, Sammy, you really gave me a scare there...I thought you were asleep!"

_I was asleep Dean...then I woke up. People do that sometimes, genius._

Dean glanced at Ellen, puzzled, as Sam gurgled in his arms

"I swear he just laughed at me."

_Dean, we need to talk. I think I've figured out why I changed...Dean, are you listening to me? Dean? Dean!_

"Ellen, what's going on, why's he crying? I didn't do anything!"

Panicking, Dean held Sammy out to Ellen, who raised her hands defensively.

"Uh uh, this is up to you now Dean. You can figure this out, I know you can. Besides, you've done it all before, haven't you? I'll see you in the morning...or rather, later in the morning."

With that Ellen made her escape, darting out the door before Dean could take another step, slamming it shut behind her.

Dean looked helplessly down at his wailing brother, who seemed more angry than upset.

"Okay...Sammy, what is it? Are you hungry, or, or," Dean wracked his brains as he mentally flashed back to his childhood, where he had helped his dad raise Sam. "Or do you need to be burped? I know, diaper change, right?!"

_Dean, man, what the hell is happening? Listen to me already! I won't tell you if you don't look at me...fine, I'll tell you. Okay, I think this changing thing is all a state of mind. If I think 'right, when I was seven, I needed Dean most' then I would turn seven, do you underst-oh, hell no, don't you even think about it...get off me, you freakin' pervert!_

Dean stared blankly at his screaming brother. He'd removed Sam's pants and underwear...but he had no nappy. He couldn't exactly let Sam walk around (or...crawl, or whatever) naked, could he?

The thought was tempting, but he supposed it wouldn't be as embarrassing for Sam as it would have had Sammy been twenty three. He grabbed a clean cloth from his bag, then deftly secured it around Sammy's...privates, securing it with a safety pin.

Finished, he stood back, sweating but satisfied. He had successfully changed the baby!

Who was currently staring at him like he was an alien.

_Oh well, at least Sammy's shut up, _Dean thought happily. He turned around to grab a drink bottle, then swung back around, to make sure Sammy didn't fall off the bed while he wasn't looking or something just as dum-

"Oh no, you get the hell away from me!"

Dean gaped at the once again seven year old Sammy, who was scrambling away from him in a blind panic, not stopping until he reached the far wall.

"S-Sammy? How did you...when did...what the hell is going on?" he stuttered. Sam glared at him darkly.

"You tell me, mister I'm-going-strip-my-little-brother-while-he's-defenceless!" Sam cried. They both looked down, and Sam blushed, grabbing a pair of pants they'd bought for him earlier.

"Look, Sammy, you were a baby, I changed you diaper..which you can probably take off now that you don't need it. And I mean that in a completely non-paedophilic way. You just have to calm down, okay? And then please, _please_ explain this all to me."

Sam climbed over to Dean bashfully, his expression apologetic.

"Sorry Dean...it's just, I may be small, but I still have my twenty three year old mind. And you took my pants off!" Sam shuddered, and Dean had to stop himself from laughing. It was good to see his brother normal again-scratch that, the step _before_ normal. Still, that was one step closer than they had been two minutes ago.

"Okay Dean...wait, can I eat something first? I only got some crumbs from that cake you pigged out on."

Dean looked affronted, standing up so he towered over his brother, who didn't look very impressed.

"Dude, I was hungry. And you baked it for me!"

"Real nice Dean, using your height to threaten a little kid. Real _mature_."

"Sissy cake-baking baby!"

"Stupid shorter-than-me-in-real-life pig!"

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

"Fine!" Dean stepped away, smiling slyly. "I guess you wouldn't want me to make you anything. Seeing as I'd probably eat it anyway."

Sam's innocent face fell, his brow furrowing as he tried and failed to come up with a witty retort.

"Okay, Dean, I'm sorry I called you a jerk. And those other things that are true. Now will you make me some food?"

Dean paused for a second, knowing he had somehow been insulted but not quite sure how, then sighed.

"Sure. Whaddya want?"

Sam leapt up, delighted.

"Mac 'n' cheese, Mac 'n' cheese!"

Dean laughed, dragging Sam off the bed and out the door.

"Sure, you have the mind of a twenty three year old. Yet you wanna eat Mac 'n' cheese. So...as I prepare your meal, how 'bout you explain how you got back to this size?"

"Well...I figured it out after I changed the second time. See, whenever I feel more secure about my independency, I change to an age where I was completely reliant on...well, you. So, if I think about a time when I was older and I really needed you, then I can change to that age. All I need to do is focus on that, and I should be fine."

"Mmhmm," Dean said distractedly, tuning out as Sam continued to use unnecessarily long words. "So, why not older? Why not go back to your proper age?"

_Because there wasn't really a time that I can recall where I couldn't look after myself, _Sam thought guiltily.

"Uh...I think that may be the fairy's doing. Part of the curse was probably that I couldn't get much older, you know. 'Cause that could be dangerous, for her."

Dean planted the bowl of freshly heated up pasta in front of his little brother, who took one look at it and grimaced.

"No offence Dean, but your culinary skills haven't improved much. Suddenly, I'm not so hungry."

Dean looked offended, studying the bowl critically.

"What! There's nothing wrong with it!"

Sam looked at him disbelievingly, and Dean sighed, chucking the whole thing in the rubbish.

"Fine, we'll go get us some pie. Mmm...me like pie..."

---

"Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"You're not eating your pie."

"I did Dean, I eated half already!"

"It's ate, Sammy. Boy, I never thought I'd see the day when I was correcting you on your grammar. And you've only eaten half of it."

Sam pouted, lifting the plate with the offending pie on it to eye height, glaring at it intensely, as if that would scare the pie into dissolving.

"But I'm full already," he said grumpily.

Dean sighed, glancing at his own plate, with was empty save a few crumbs.

"Here, give it to me, I'll finish it."

Dean reached out for it, but suddenly it slipped from Sam's hand and smashed onto the floor. Everyone in the shop turned to look at them, and Dean was so distracted that he didn't know what was happening to Sam until a woman gasped.

Turning to face his little brother, Dean saw Sam jerking horrifically, his large eyes rolling into the back of his head so only the whites showed.

"Sammy! Oh god Sammy-what's wrong? C'mon, you'll be okay..."

Dean got up and rushed to Sam's side, arriving there just as the boy let off a high-pitched wail, before slumping over in his seat, head banging into the table.

"No, no no no Sammy! Wake up!"

Dean shook Sam lightly, his eyes stinging as the young boy remained unresponsive. The gasping lady ran over, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"An ambulance is on its way, it should be here any minute sir," she whispered, before backing off to join the group of spectators that were watching, with sickening fascination, as Dean tried fruitlessly to revive his brother.

Suddenly a paramedic barged into the room, ploughing through the crowd, a stretcher being carried not far behind him. Sam was lifted onto it before Dean realised what was happening; all he could do was follow.

He wasn't used to being so helpless, but he would do whatever he was told, anything at all, if it meant Sam would get better.

---

At first glance, Sam didn't know where he was. He blinked groggily, then shook his small head, and looked around.

_Oh, great. _Another_ hospital._

Sam sighed, sat up slowly, looking in confusion at the IV line that was connected to his arm.

_Okay...what did I miss?!_

Suddenly Dean barrelled into the room, followed quickly by a stressed looking nurse.

"I'm sorry sir, but I have strict orders not to let anyone enter this room besides hospital employees!" she said sternly. Dean ignored her, not stopping until he reached Sam's bedside.

"Sammy, I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up...these nurses have been feeding me a load of bull about restrictions and complications...I decided to ignore them. I mean, if demons can't stop me, a few nurses certainly shouldn't be a problem!"

Sam grinned toothily, and Dean slowly felt himself relaxing.

"Dean, I'm fine, really. Uh...what happened?"

Dean ran a hand over his face, before settling on the edge of the bed. The nurse had disappeared to some place, leaving the two alone.

"You really don't remember? Well, you did hit your head, I s'pose you could have some minor concussion. I don't really know what happened...all of a sudden you started writhing and screaming...it was like something out of one of those Hollywood exorcism movies. I gotta say, you had me going for a while there. But you're feeling okay now right...Sam? Sammy?"

Dean stopped as Sam's face went white, and he fell back against the pillow.

"Sam? Are you having another fit?"

Sam shook his head slowly, but then he grabbed Dean's hand, the movement lightning fast.

"It wasn't a fit, Dean...I was having a vision. And, I saw...I saw someone die."

Dean's mind immediately went into overdrive, thoughts flashing by before he could register them.

_How is that possible, he didn't have visions when he was that age before...the pain must have been excruciating...why does he look so scared, poor kid..._

Suddenly the door to the room flung open, and the nurse stormed in, this time accompanied by and officer.

"What the hell-" Dean began, the stopped as he caught sight of the policeman.

"Excuse me sir, but I represent Child Services...I have a few questions for you."

Sam watched, bewildered, as a stunned Dean was led out of the room. The nurse bent over him, smiling sweetly.

"It's okay, Sammy, your brother is just going to be asked a few questions...if he answers them right, you can go home with him! In the meantime, is there anything you'd like to do? Colour in, or draw?"

Sam surveyed her coolly, before turning onto his side and pulling the pillow over his head.

"My name is _Sam_!" he screamed.

---

"This is stupid," Dean argued, fists clenched beneath the table. "Are you seriously asking what I think you're asking?"

The policeman frowned, and Dean took a deep breath.

"Mr. Winchester, whether you did these things or not is what I am now trying to determine, and let me tell you, your temper has not helped convince me of your innocence."

Dean buried his head in his hands, trying to calm down.

_Okay...think of Sammy. He's depending on you to get out of this._

"Okay officer, I'm fine now," Dean said slowly. "Please, continue."

The officer nodded, sitting down opposite Dean.

"Okay. Mr. Winchester-"

"Dean," Dean interrupted agitatedly. "My name is Dean."

"Dean," the officer continued. "There have been various questionable bruises found on Samuel's body, and x-rays show that he has a history of broken bones. This is just protocol, it may not necessarily mean anything, but we have to check just in case it turns out that you have, uh-"

"Been abusing my little brother," Dean finished angrily. "The last member of my family, the person I love most in the world, someone I would die for...you're trying to tell me you think I've been _beating him up_?!"

The officer paused uncertainly; Dean's anger seemed genuine enough. Still, he'd seen many cases where people had hurt the children they swore they loved.

"Sir, I'll be back in a little while. In the meantime, I'm asking you to not leave this room. Your brother is being kept under observation, just in case he has another fit. You'll be able to see him, while being monitored of course, when I return."

"Of course," Dean echoed sarcastically as the officer left the room. The minute he was alone Dean stood up, taking out his anger on his chair.

Once his foot was well and truly numb from kicking it, Dean gave up and sat down again.

_What am I supposed to do now? Every other time I've been arrested or whatever, Sam has found a way to get us out. Or we worked out a way together. Dammit, brain, think!_

Suddenly Dean sat up straight in his chair. He had just replayed the past few minutes in his head and...

_No, he couldn't have. No one's that trusting...or stupid._

Dean chuckled as he slowly turned the door handle, which swung open without resistance.

_Thankyou, officer, for not locking the door!_

Dean hesitated. Years of breaking into places had taught him to memorise the escape route, for reasons that are fairly obvious. But he hadn't thought to remember the way to Sam's room...

_Room 37 on floor 2, I think..._

Dean set off quickly yet casually, eyes peeled for any sign of his brother.

---

"Where's my brother?"

The nurse sighed as Sam asked her, for the twenty-ninth time that hour, where his brother was.

"Sorry, sweetie, he's still in questioning. You'll know when he gets out the minute I do, okay?"

Sam scowled, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest, and the nurse shivered. The young boy had some creepily _adult_ characteristics, leaving her with an uneasy feeling that something here wasn't quite right. She could've have sworn she heard him mutter 'Sweetie _this_,' but then suddenly Sam paused, and a smile crept over his face.

"Excuse me miss," he said sweetly, his eyes widening innocently as he smiled cheekily. "Could I please have some pencils and paper?"

The nurse smiled, putty in Sam's seven-year-old hands.

"Of course honey, whatever you want," she got up and walked away, hovering in the doorway. "I'll be back in a second, okay?"

Sam smiled angelically, his expression changing to one of grim determination the minute she'd left. He quickly struggled off the bed, his short legs moving as fast as they could as he tore out the room and into the hallway. He peered around anxiously, darting into an empty room to decide on a plan.

_Okay...first thing's first, find Dean and get out of here. I won't let my vision come true...I won't let Dean die..._

* * *

A/N: Wow, talk about going round in circles! When will it all _end_?! Thanks to all those who are still reading this, although I don't see why you would...I have no idea what I'm doing any more! Don't worry, I _will_ still finish it...thanks to everyone who's reviewed...oh, and sorry if the hospital scene isn't very realistic, I don't have very much experience in that area! Okay, well, I guess I'll go start the next chapter...please tell me what you think! xxsurexx 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The Supernatural boys and characters are, regretfully, not mine.

_

* * *

_

_The creature paused mid-feast, raising its head to the night-sky, eyes closed as it sharply inhaled. The moonlight glinted off its ragged fangs, the smell of fresh blood permeating its clothes. As the familiar scent got stronger, the thing moved away from the mangled corpse that was formerly known as Richard Smithy, and investment banker in his mid-forties._

_It could smell them, the two humans who had murdered so many of its kin...although the scent of one was somehow _different

_The creature shrugged what may have been its shoulders, before stepping into the shadows. There it stood, writhing in silent agony as its skin peeled away._

_The creature, now resembling a handsome man in his early twenties, stepped out of the shadows. It adjusted its clothes, flashing a smile riddled with contempt and disgust at the bubbling pile of goo that was all that remained of its former skin._

_With a spring in his step, Sam Winchester set off in the direction of the hospital._

---

Dean sidled casually (as casually as you can look while sidling somewhere...it's a pretty conspicuous method of walking) along the hospital corridor, hands in pockets, even going so far as to whistle a few notes innocently.

Dean Winchester knew that the worst thing you could do while trying to blend in was to act overly casual; it brings too much attention to you. However, he wasn't exactly in the right state of mind to be thinking straight.

He stopped at a motivational painting, situated a few doors down from Sam's room. He paused, wondering if sprinting into the room, grabbing Sammy and then getting the hell out of there was really the best course of action.

Dean had been staring at the picture but not actually seeing it. Suddenly, a word caught his eye, and he had a closer look. In large bold lettering, the poster read;

"I've got my faults, but living in the past isn't one of them. There's no future in it."

Underneath, in a smaller, less eye-catching font, was something else.

"Live like Sparky Anderson; in the _present_!"

Dean snorted, shaking his head in derision. Was that poster actually meant to be _inspiring_? But deep down, he felt uneasy. Dean wasn't one to admit his faults...actually, he probably wouldn't tell you them, even if you tortured him with burning hot pliers and 'Friends' reruns. However, as godly as he liked to act, Dean did have some not-so-admirable qualities; a weakness for pie, and focussing on the past were just some of them. After all, if he'd been satisfied with his life, Sammy obviously wouldn't be running around as a kid right now.

Dean shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate.

_C'mon Dean, this is Sammy we're talking about. I'm not leaving this building without him!_

Dean took a step closer to Sam's room, a pit of doom growing in his stomach. He glared at it as his stomach growled noisily, punching it hastily to make it shut up (something he'd read on the internet once). However, all it really did was give him a sharp pain that promised a nasty bruise was going to form by the time he woke up the next day.

Suddenly a group of nurses ran passed, heading in the opposite direction to him. Dean jumped out of the way so as not to get flattened, which is why he was suddenly in the direct path of a hysterically sobbing woman.

"Why?!" she cried, clasping her hands to the heavens. "Oh, if only I hadn't been so fixated on the past, maybe Jimmy wouldn't have gotten run over, three times in a row! Why?!"

Still sobbing, she ran passed Dean, heading after the rushing nurses. Dean glanced towards the ceiling, but unlike the woman, he wasn't begging for enlightenment. He was just plain pissed off.

See, Dean didn't really believe in a god. His logic was that, if god existed, why had He let the Winchesters suffer so much? And it seemed a bit ridiculous that when John Winchester had wanted to save his sons' lives, he'd had to turn to a _demon_ to do it, the irony of which was not wasted on Dean. Nevertheless, he felt like some higher being was trying to send him a message.

"Alright, the minute Sam and I get outta here, we're gonna hunt that fairy down and make her wish she hadn't messed with the wrong freakin' family," Dean growled, jogging slowly towards Sam's room. He stopped at the door, looking both ways before going in.

"Sammy, we gotta get outta here-"

Dean paused in confusion as his gaze swept the hospital room, which was empty of any occupants, excepting him.

"Excuse me sir, but-hey, aren't you meant to be in questioning?"

Dean whirled around to grin beguilingly at the young nurse, who melted under his gaze.

"No, they let me go, 'cause I'm innocent. Look, do you know where my brother went?"

The nurse suddenly frowned, peering around Dean.

"He was here a minute ago; I was only gone for a few minutes to get him some colouring things..."

Dean felt his insides twist as he realised his brother was missing. Then he noticed the nurse, who seemed a bit slow on the uptake, hadn't quite figured things out yet.

_Better think of something before she alerts the whole hospital that Sammy's running wild...and before she finds out I'm not actually meant to be here..._

"Oh, you know what, I actually saw him going around the corridor with another nurse. I think I'll just go catch up with them," Dean said suavely, shooting her one last smile before he disappeared out the door.

_Dammit, Sammy...I don't know where you are, but you better get your psychic butt down here before I start maiming people..._

---

Okay...down this corridor, then turn left, then left again, then right, then straight...  
Sam stopped in the middle of the hallway. According to the instructions that old lady had given him, he should be by the entrance right now.

Instead he was...

Sam looked up, craning his neck to see the large sign above the double doors.

"The Children's Ward," he said aloud, squinting slightly. Sighing, he turned around...then realised he'd forgotten the way he had come.

Sam sat down on the ground, legs crossed, eyes squeezed shut, as he massaged his temples, trying to remember the way. He actually couldn't believe he'd forgotten; he, Sam Winchester, who was practically OCD about things like this...he had actually gotten lost!

"Oh my god...how did you get out here?"

Sam opened his eyes to see a nurse peering down at him, her face annoyed. He was about to open his mouth and deny everything, then realised that 1) he had done nothing wrong and 2) he was a kid, so whatever he said probably wouldn't be taken seriously.

He realised too late that the nurse was reaching for him, and before he knew it he was being lifted up and carried into the Children's Ward.

"Hey, what are you doing? No, put me down! I only want directions," he protested, squirming against her firm grip, but she ignored him, her pace quickening if anything.

"Nancy, we have an escapee," she informed another nurse, this one in her early twenties, who seemed new to the job. She had an eager to please attitude, accompanied by an air of nervousness.

"I didn't escape," Sam informed her as he was passed into her hands, deciding to take the polite tactic. "I'm just looking for the way out. If you could be so kind as to oblige, I need directions on how to get to the main entrance. My brother is waiting for me there, and he's pretty impatient."

Nancy gaped at Sam, then turned to the first nurse, who looked slightly bored.

"Did you hear that? I don't think my eleven-year-old nephew speaks that eloquently!" she said in surprise. The nurse shot her an annoyed, 'why are you bothering me with this?' look, and turned away.

Sam felt sorry for Nancy, who looked quite hurt as she carried him over to one of the many beds that lined the ward.

"Is she always like that?" he asked curiously, peering around Nancy's shoulder. She laughed in surprise, and they both watched as the nurse knocked a stack of clean linen over, and somehow managed to blame it on another nurse three feet away.

"Unfortunately, yes. Now, what are we going to do about you? Where were you staying?"

Sam knew Nancy was just thinking out loud, but he answered anyway.

"Actually, I'm not meant to be here. I need to find my brother and get him out of here before he dies."

Nancy chuckled as she set Sam down on a bed.

"Actually, you'll find that people come here for the opposite reason. They're often dying when they come in, and fine when they come out."

Sam stared at her earnestly from beneath his too-long fringe.

"Everyone I love has died, even Dean," he said matter-of-factly, figuring the only way to make this nurse realise he was being serious was by being completely honest. It was up to her to believe him or not. "But if I can get to him, he might not die again. Please, this is important."

Nancy sat down next to him, her face concerned.

"Honey, you shouldn't say things like that! I'm sure not everyone you love dies. The way to get through crises is by thinking positively. Blamign things on yourself does more harm than good."

Sam gaped at her, then promptly shut his mouth.

"I'm glad you think so, really I do," he said quietly. "And usually I wouldn't be as cynical or dramatic as this. But Jessica, Mum, Dad? Yeah, they all died. The only person I have left is Dean. If I don't get him out of here by midnight, he's gonna die. And no amount of positive thinking is gonna change that."

With one last regretful look in Nancy's direction, Sam leapt off the bed, darting in between people's legs in his haste to get away.

He was lost from sight before Nancy realised he had gone.

---

"Here, Sammy Sammy Sammy," Dean called quietly into the darkness. "C'mon Sammy, c'mere...here Sammy Sammy Samm-"

"There are no animals allowed in this hospital, you know, so your dog won't come," came a voice from the doorway. Dean froze, not believing his ears.

"Sammy?"

The figure stepped into the light and Dean walked over to him as fast as he could, without actually running.

"Sammy!" he grabbed his younger brother and pulled him into a tight hug, before pushing him away roughly. "God, Sammy, how'd you do it? How'd you turn back?"

Sam seemed to pause, as if he were mulling things over in his head. Dean rolled his eyes, but was secretly glad to have his brother back; the guy who would pause for two minutes to consider every question fully.

"Never mind. Let's just go find that stupid fairy and kick her ass, okay? And then we'll go get some pie. I'm hungry," Dean added thoughtfully.

Sam grinned menacingly, the expression making Dean shudder. He just hoped Sam had survived his ordeal as a kid without any kind of physical or mental scarring.

Sam followed Dean silently out of the room, his mind whirring. Stage one was complete; he was now trusted. All that was left to do was his favourite part.

Crushing his prey's spirit.

"Hey Sammy, do you need an invitation or something?"

"Coming," Sam called, jogging after his brother.

Suddenly Dean stopped, and Sam's heart skipped a beat, but to his relief Dean turned around with a smile on his face.

"Hey Sam, you know what this means, right? My dog might not have come when I called...but my bitch did!"

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean chuckled.

"Gee, Dean, how long did it take you to come up with that?"

---

"Okay, I'm Dean. I'm in a hospital. Where would I go?"

Sam turned around in circles, enjoying the dizzy feeling it gave him. It was definitely preferable to the feeling of hopelessness that was threatening to take over.

"Well...I'm pretty sure the cafeteria doesn't sell pie, and he probably wouldn't have the time to find a hot nurse..."

Sam spotted a doctor coming his way and ducked into a janitor's closet. He burrowed deep between a mop and a broom, wrapping the blanket of darkness around him.

He had never felt so vulnerable and scared in his life.

_C'mon Sam, you know Dean is doing everything in his power to find you. So make it easier for him and stop hiding! _

Feeling slightly braver, Sam got up and took a determined step forward...then ran screaming from the closet as something ran over his foot.

He leaned against the opposite wall, clutching his chest, as an equally terrified mouse stared back at him, frozen.

As Sam stared at the mouse, something that had terrified him so much when it was an unknown creature in the dark, he felt a strange feeling welling up inside of him. Now, in the light of the corridor, the roles were reversed. He had the upper hand, and now the mouse didn't look half threatening.

As a wave of bravery washed over him, Sam knew what he had to do, and that was to...

Well, first of all, it was to pee.

As Sam sprinted towards the toilets he went over his next plan in his head, grinning in anticipation.

This was gonna be fun...

---

"Dean, what are we doing?"

When the shape shifter had taken on Sam's form, he'd taken on his memories, too. All the way up to when Sam had run from the first nurse, when Dean was still being questioned.

Now, however, when he was trying to put everything together, he still didn't get how what they were doing had anything to do with...well, anything.

"Sammy, this is all part of the plan, you'll see." Dean said, stretching his arms above his head, his tongue sticking out as he concentrated. He lowered his arms, holding his hands close together, bringing his head down to eye-level with the object of attention. It was vital that he didn't make a single wrong movement here, or everything would come crashing down.

"Yes, but what _is_ the plan?" Sam persisted, accidentally knocking the table. Dean groaned in frustration as his card-pyramid collapsed in a flurry of flying cards.

"Aw, c'mon Sammy, you coulda tried to be a little more careful! God, you were probably less clumsy when you were seven," Dean muttered.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe if you hadn't said that stupid wish, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place," Sam taunted, a blossom of satisfaction blooming inside of him as Dean froze, his face a mask of anger.

"Look, Sammy, I told you I was sorry. It was an accident, okay? I'm not apologising again, and if you don't accept that, it's your problem!"

Sam laughed tauntingly, the sound chilling Dean to the core.

"Oh yeah, Dean? What are you gonna do? Turn me into a kid or something? You have to admit it, I have the upper hand here. After all, your ultimate wish was that I need you. Which means I mean a whole lot to you, don't I? So you'd do whatever I said."

Dean glared at Sam, then his face slowly softened as he visibly restrained himself.

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry, okay? Can we just...move on, please? The plan is to just stay put. Soon enough the fairy will come looking for us, seeing as the wish has been reversed. She'll wanna know what's going on. Then, when she gets here...we waste her." Dean's face lit up with an eager expectancy, but Sam could tell that under all that bravado, he'd gotten to him.

Dean Winchester was slowly breaking.

---

Sam hid under the blanket of the trolley, still not quite believing that this was actually happening.

He'd seen it happen in movies, but he hadn't thought people were stupid enough to fall for it in real life.

Still, he wasn't exactly complaining.

Sam grinned as he recalled how easy it had been to slip under the trolley's blanket, the one he had heard was headed passed the hospital's basement. After that, it was just an easy ride between him and his destination.

It had taken him a while to figure it out, but he guessed that if Dean were still in the hospital, he'd go to the basement. After all, the staff hardly ever ventured there, and...Sam felt a pang of regret as he thought of the other reason.

In a hospital basement, John had made a deal with a demon. If there were to be a supernatural showdown of some kind, it would be there.

Sam listened intently, lifting the corner of the blanket occasionally to see where he was.

A few minutes later, he spied a sign on a heavy metal door reading 'Basement'. As he rolled off, the only person who would notice anything would be the nurse, who would smile happily as she felt the trolley grow seemingly lighter.

Sam leant against the heavy door, wondering if it would be a problem, then suddenly realised something, a vital part of the operation.

He tried opening the door again, this time pulling down on the handle as he pushed. The door swung open, slamming shut behind him with a heavy clang.

Sam peered into the darkness that seemed so absolute, at first feeling afraid then remembering the ordeal in the janitor's closet. He grinned to himself, then took off toward the boiler room.

---

Dean sat on the floor under the shady light of the boiler room's only bulb, squinting in his brother's direction.

There was something not quite right about his brother, Dean had decided. There was a certain...charm, an innocent demeanour, an air of trust that automatically made you feel as though you'd known the young man for years. Instead there was a cold feeling of calculation, and Dean didn't like it. His instincts told him there was something wrong, and it wasn't often that Dean chose his heart over his gut.

"So," he said slowly, moving his gaze to a spot to the far right of Sam, which allowed him to see the only door to the room and his younger brother at the same time. "How did you say you changed back again? I can't remember what you said."

"That's because I didn't tell you," Sam answered, rolling his eyes. He could smell the distrust rolling off Dean in waves, but it didn't bother him. he knew Dean would never hurt his brother, even if he did think there was something wrong. All in all, choosing Sam's form had been the best move this creature had made in a long time.

"Well, could you tell me now?" Dean asked irritatedly, angry that he'd had to ask twice.

"You really wanna know, Deano?" Sam threw back. Dean sighed heavily at the nickname, determined to not let his brother get to him.

"Yeah, I wanna know, Sammy," he retorted, but before Sam could answer, there was a puff of smoke...

And there before them stood the fairy.

"Why, hello boys," she cooed. "So nice to see you again."

* * *

A/N: The end of another chapter. Or should I just leave the chapter there? Let you guys decide what you want to happen for yourselves? Actually, I'd never be able to do that, I hate not finishing a story...lucky for you! Or unluckily, depending on how much you like this...In case you didn't notice, the quote was said by Sparky Anderson. Yes...took me a while to find that, so I hope you appreciate it. kidding! Okay, well, I better go start the new chapter...! Hope you liked this one, and thankyou to everyone who reviewed, your support is what keeps me going. sob Again, kidding. But seirously, thanks! xxsurexx


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. In fact, it doesn't belong to anyone! (Sssh...it's a conspiracy!) ...kidding!

* * *

Sam stumbled in the murkiness of the hospital basement, skimming his knees on the rough surface of the unclean floor.

"God," he groaned as he pushed himself upright. "I really need a torch."

He jumped in fright, his heart in his mouth, as he heard something scramble somewhere in the darkness.

"Or a gun," he muttered, although he couldn't really picture himself with a rifle right now. Then again...he was only a few years older when he _had_ first used a gun. Which, it now occurred to him, was kinda sad.

He slowly crept forward, eye locked on the door in front of him. The only way he could see it was from the light that seeped out from the cracks around the door. When Sam closed his eyes, the picture was burned into his mind.

Although keeping his eyes open was definitely preferable, seeing as he managed to trip over something every second step when his eyes were shut.

Sam finally stood in front of the door and paused, taking a deep breath. For some reason he felt nervous, although he couldn't say why. He was about to enter when he heard raised voices, and he paused, frowning.

If Dean was in there, he wasn't alone.

Sam was torn between running in and helping, in case Dean was in trouble, or staying on this side of the door and get a gist of what was happening before anything happened.

He decided to stay outside, pressing his eye against the keyhole to get a better view of the room, like he used to do when he was little, when he was learning how to pick locks.

Crossing his fingers, Sam hoped he'd be able to come to Dean's aid in time if he was needed.

---

Dean clenched his teeth as the fairy took a step closer, raising a hand gun to point directly at her head. She pulled up short, but the smile didn't disappear from her face.

"Sorry, can't say I feel the same," he replied to her greeting. She laughed, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Aw, don't be like that Dean!" she cried playfully. "You know, I've always had a soft spot for men like you. You know, the bad-ass with a heart of gold type."

Dean rolled his eyes, the gun still pinned on the fairy.

"You know, the thought of me and you actually sickens me. You, you have _demon_ in you. You're not _human_." Dean spat.

"Well, neither is he," she said, staring directly at Sam. Dean did a double take and she laughed in astonishment.

"Wait, don't tell me you didn't _know_!" she clapped her hands joyously, throwing her head back as she laughed. "Oh god, this is too precious! Dean Winchester doesn't even recognise his own _brother_," she taunted. Dean took a step back, lowering the gun.

"What are you talking about? Of course that's Sammy! Wait, let me guess...fairy's get amnesia now, right? Or do you turn so many people into kids a day that you just can't keep up?"

"Right, and you spend so much time bonding with Sammy that you know absolutely everything about him, don't you?" she threw back. "C'mon, Dean, use your head! It doesn't even _smell_ like Sam...it's quite revolting, really," she said, wrinkling her nose in Sam's direction.

"That's enough!" Dean said forcefully, and the fairy once more found herself staring down the wrong end of the gun's barrel. She stopped moving, staring at the gun so hard she practically went cross-eyed.

"Whoa, watch where you're pointing that thing Dean!" she said nervously. "You wouldn't want to accidentally shoot someone, you know?"

Dean laughed through his teeth, nodding at Sam to move forward.

"Oh, don't worry. Know now that when I shoot you, it'll be because I wanted to, with all my heart."

The fairy swallowed, looking distinctly ill. She glanced at Sam, who was smirking at her.

"C'mon Dean, and whatever..._you_ are," she said, waving a hand at Sam. "How 'bout we compromise? I'll turn Sam back if you let me go. That's a promise."

Dean groaned in frustration, rolling his eyes at Sam.

"What, are you crazy or something? Get it through your demonic little head that Sammy is back. We didn't need your help. He turned back by..." Dean hesitated. Sam stepped forward, so he was directly next to Dean.

"Dean, I think we should kill her now, before she does anymore damage," he whispered. Dean shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed.

"No...I don't think so. First, I want you to tell me how you turned back," Dean said.

The fairy watched the exchange intently, watching for an opportunity to escape.

"Well, it was quite simple Dean," Sam said languidly, as if they were discussing the weather. "I broke it."

"No, Sam didn't," the fairy emphasised. "If he had, I would've known."

"How do we know you're not saying that to make us fight?" Sam accused, eyes flaring.

"Sam, just answer the question," Dean said sharply. Sam stared at him incredulously, as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"You don't actually believe her, do you?" he asked quietly. Dean hesitated, unsure of how to settle this.

"Look," he started, then stopped. "I mean...I just need to make sure, okay? I mean, if you were the shape shifter, and I didn't kill you, well...that would kinda suck. I mean, I have a reputation to live up to, you know? Dean Winchester, killer of all things evil. Supernaturally evil, I mean. I still haven't found a way to permanently destroy all musicals...anyway, if you're innocent, it shouldn't be so hard to just...explain, would it?"

The fairy rolled her eyes at Dean's self-absorbed speech, then frowned as she heard a voice, whispering in her mind, steadily getting louder. She shook her head, trying to get rid of them, then realised the thoughts were not her own.

"Maybe it's not the explaining I'm having trouble with, Dean, it's you not trusting me!" Sam said hotly.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't give me a reason _not_ to trust you!" Dean yelled back.

The fairy stared at them as they squabbled, but her vision was starting to blur, and her head ached like nothing else.

_What's going on? _she thought through the pain. _The only reason why this would happen is if my wish came und-oh, no..._

---

Sam paced the area outside the boiler room impatiently, stopping every now and then to tug viciously at the handle. After a few minutes of waiting he had tried to get in, but then found his little arms just didn't have the strength to push the heavy door open.

"I need Dean," he muttered aloud, then stopped. "But then again, I've always needed him."

Memories of the past year flitted through Sam's head, vivid images that sent shocks of pain through his skull. He slid to the ground, groaning, as they kept on coming.

Dean, pulling Sam out of Jessica's burning room.

Dean coming after Sam when he got kidnapped.

Dean protecting Sam, even if it meant he got hurt instead.

And it wasn't just that, Sam realised. Dean provided comfort, and humour, and helped him move on in life...in Dean's own special, non-personal way.

"If I needed Dean all along, then this spell, this wish, means nothing," Sam said determinedly. "Dean just didn't realise it...or me. But I know now, that no matter what age I am, I'll need my brother." Sam glared into the darkness. "You hear me? So your stupid spell won't work anymore!" Sam yelled. There was silence, and then his eyes closed and he fell, unconscious, onto the floor, his mind in a place so dark, it was more like an absence of light than blackness.

It was absolute.

---

_Sam's mind knew who it was immediately, but didn't want to acknowledge that._

_"You wanted to go back to normal? You can go back!" the angel hissed, and light exploded in Sam's head._

_He struggled against it, but the pull of life was too strong._

_Reluctantly, the essence of Sam returned to his body._

Suddenly the fairy fell over, gasping. Sam and Dean turned to look at her. 

"You better finish her off, before she pulls a disappearing act," Sam mocked. Dean glared at him, then turned to the fairy, but by then she was back on her feet, if not a little shaky.

"The spell is undone," she said, her eyes dark against her suddenly pale face. "The spell is _undone_!"

"Yeah, kinda what I've been trying to tell you for the past ten minutes," Dean snapped at her, aiming the gun at her chest. "Okay, this is where we end it. I just wanted to let you know that while you're burning in hell, we're gonna be up here, living our lives. Maybe while you're tending to the fires or whatever, you can cling to that thought and have hope. Or not," Dean added sarcastically. Then he shot her.

---

The first thing Sam felt when he regained consciousness was the chill of the murky floor against his bare skin. He sat up, his head throbbing, as he gazed around.

Suddenly everything came flooding back to him. The wish, the events that followed and...him changing back to _himself_ again.

Sam jumped up in glee as he ran his hands over his normal, twenty-three year old body, then paused.

Clothes. Now _there_ was a problem.

His gaze swept around the room, and he spied another door. He ran over to it, praying that there wasn't a nurse who regularly came down to the basement to have a cup of coffee or something, who might discover him.

Because that would just be _embarrassing_.

_Aha! _Sam thought victoriously as he opened the door, revealing piles and piles of freshly cleaned scrubs. He snatched one up, checking to see if it was stain-free, then pulled it over his head. He turned and walked out the door, towards the boiler room, then froze as the sound of a gunshot rang out.

His blood went cold as he turned the handle and flung the door open, just in time to see the fairy's body thud into the opposite wall, as a result of the impact of the bullet slamming into her delicate body. Her mouth widened into a surprised 'oh' as she looked down at her stomach, where a blossom of blood had appeared, growing bigger every second.

Sam ran over to Dean, who had his back to Sam. He was facing another person, someone Sam couldn't quite see in the shadows of the room...

And then the person stepped forward, and Sam found himself staring at...himself.

"Wh-what the hell is going on, Dean?!" he cried, staring in horror at his mirror image..who, annoyingly, looked quite calm.

"I knew it!" Dean cried, raising his gun to point at the shape shifter. "I knew you couldn't be Sammy!"

"Actually, you didn't," the thing replied casually. "Even the dumb fairy figured it out before you. I must say, I'm quite disappointed."

"Dean, we have to get you out of here," Sam warned, but Dean was too focussed on the shape shifter to listen.

"I mean it Dean, it's really important, we have to get out _now_!" Sam cried, glancing at the fairy's body with an unwelcome sense of déjà vu.

"Right, Sammy. Just let me kill this sorry sucker, then we'll get the hell out of here."

Dean advanced on the shape shifter then hesitated. The thing saw the movement and smirked.

"Can't do it, can ya? Can't kill your own brother."

Dean glared at it, but still didn't move closer.

Sam rolled his eyes and stalked forward, hissing a warning into Dean's ear.

"Dean, remember the reason why I first came in here? It's 'cause I had a vision. A vision where you died, okay? Now, is that enough reason for us to get out of here?"

Dean shrugged Sam's attempts to move him off.

"Listen, Sammy, you've had visions of our deaths before, haven't you? And so far, they haven't come true."

"There's a first time for everything," Sam muttered.

Dean turned around and poked him on the shoulder.

"Hey, I get the last word round here, k? I'm still your older brother!"

Sam was about to roll his eyes again when he spotted something behind Dean's back, and his eyes widened.

"Seems like you aren't the only one."

"What?"

Dean spun around, his face confused, then halted when he saw a pile of bubbling vomit-like substance on the ground, and an identical image of him. He paused, then smirked.

"Yeah, I'd tap that."

"Dean, get out of the way!" Sam yelled as the shape shifter raised his fist. Dean jumped and rolled out of the way, losing the gun in the process. Sam ducked to, but the shape shifter was ready; it grabbed Sam and, lifting him with an inhuman strength, threw him at a wall. Dean watched as Sam slid to the floor, eyes closed.

"Man, you did _not_ just hit my brother!" Dean yelled, jumping on the shape shifter's back and pummelling its head. The thing roared angrily, spinning around, before finally tossing Dean onto the ground.

"It's okay, I was going to get off anyway. There's just something so wrong about giving yourself a piggyback," Dean said causally, before dodging a punch. He dodged another punch and ran forward, ramming the shape shifter into a wall then punching him repetitively.

"Seems like such a pity to ruin such a gorgeous face," Dean said as he stepped back, regarding his handiwork. The shape shifter fell to the ground, sporting multiple broken bones in it's face.

Dean looked around the room, pretty proud to be the only one left standing. Suddenly he saw Sam stir, just as the shape shifter got to its feet.

---

Sam felt something trickle down his face. He groaned as he wiped at it, only to have his hand come away, stained with blood. He was surprised he could still think straight, considering how many knocks to the head he'd had in his lifetime.

He looked up and froze as he saw the two Dean's fighting again. He squinted, but he couldn't tell which one was which. Suddenly one was knocked to the ground, helpless as the other Dean stood above it, breathing heavily. Sam felt as if someone had punched him in the gut; if the Dean on the ground was his brother, he should help him. if it wasn't, and Sam did help, he would be aiding the enemy.

"Sammy, quick, the gun!" the Dean on the ground grunted. Sam stared first at him, then standing Dean, torn between the two.

"Don't do it, Sam!" the other Dean yelled, and Sam glared at him.

"Let me think, just let me _think_!" Sam yelled his head in his hands. "God Dean, do you always have to be such a _jerk_?"

"Well sorry, Sammy, for trying to save both our asses!" the Dean standing up stated, at the same time as the other Dean said; "Right, okay. Can i have the gun now please?"

Then, realising its mistake, (which was that Dean would never,_ ever_ let Sam act superior to him) the shape shifter shoved Dean off him. Dean gestured for the gun, which Sam threw at him, but the shape shifter darted forward instead, grabbing it and shooting Dean before either Winchester realised what had happened.

Sam had secretly expected that, if he ever saw Dean die, it would be in slow motion. If anything, it was the opposite. The bullet tore through Dean's skin, and he didn't feel the fiery touch of pain until a second later. He gritted his teeth as he fell to the floor, the shape shifter bounding over him and out the door.

Sam rushed to Dean's side, not letting himself think about what had just happened.

"What are you doing, idiot, go after it!" Dean growled, but Sam just pushed him so he was lying down.

"We have to put pressure on the wound," Sam said, as he tried to speak through the lump that had appeared in his throat.

"You don't have to tell me, I've only seen about a million gunshot wounds," Dean retorted, his voice raspy.

"Dean, Dean there's too much blood. It's, it's not stopping, I need more pressure, it's...you have to fight harder Dean, c'mon!"

Dean felt his head get heavy and allowed it to thud against the floor, not feeling any pain at all.

"I can't Sammy," he said slowly, the words seeming to trip on his tongue. He was seeing spots everywhere, and Sam had started to blur. "Fighting is too hard. I think I'll just...rest for a little while. Why are there two of you? Look Sammy, it's...raining..."

Sam wiped the tears from his cheeks so they wouldn't continue to fall onto Dean, his face wet as he lifted Dean into a sitting position, trying not to look at the blood seeping out of the hole in Dean's side.

"No, Dean, it wasn't supposed to happen this way! I saw it, and you weren't meant to...if I had known I wouldn't have let you touch the gun, I would've..." Sam sniffed angrily as the tears kept on coming, tasting the saltiness as they entered his mouth, tickling his face and blurring his vision.

"C'mon Dean, I won't let you go. I mean, you died and then came back before, why not this time? You can't leave me, I just realised how much I needed you! Help, somebody help us!" Sam yelled, remembering they were in a hospital. But by the time anyone heard him, if they even did, it would be too late.

"No, no no no Dean, you can't...you can't leave me alone. I promised myself I wouldn't let you die! We're gonna make you better," Sam whispered into Dean's hair, holding his brother to his body. But then he pushed Dean away again; the feel of Dean's cold skin against wasn't right. It wasn't meant to _be_ like this.

Sam put his head in his hands as his body shuddered, the tears flowing through the gaps in his fingers.

"No!" he yelled, grabbing at his hair viciously, basking in the physical pain. Anything was better than what he was feeling inside.  
He lay down, pressing his head against Dean's chest, pushing the sounds of his shallow breathing and sobs out of his head. He listened for a heart beat, but his own pulse, which was ringing loudly in his ears, as if taunting him, saying 'nyah nyah, you're alive and Dean's not', was in the way.

Sam sat up, wiping his tears away, then staring dumbly at his hand. It was soaked from his tears, yet...what was the point? It wasn't bringing Dean back.

Suddenly he heard a small noise coming from the corner, and turned to see the fairy struggling upright.

Suddenly hope blossomed inside of him.

His tears may not be able to help Dean...

But he knew something that could.

* * *

A/N: Wow, that sure did get confusing for a minute...or two...I wonder what will happen next? Seriously, I have no idea. Will Dean die? And then Sam feels so bad he wants to forget his past, so he starts a new life, leaving him free...to marry me? Wait, _you_ guys are meant to be speculating, not the writer. Still, who agrees with that as an ending?! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and if you liked this style of writing, keep your eyes out for some more stories (I've got a few ideas...) xxsurexx 


	9. The End

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or anything Supernatural related...ooh, I have the DVD's though[yay!

* * *

Dean could feel something. It was as if an insect, like a mosquito, had bitten him on the chest. It didn't actually hurt...but he couldn't leave it alone. Rather, it wouldn't leave _him_ alone.

"To hell with it," Dean muttered, sitting up, rubbing his itching wound. He could distinctly see Sam in the corner of the room, but he had his back to Dean.

Dean sighed and got to his feet, wondering why his brother hadn't gone after that damned shape shifter yet.

"Sammy!" he snapped, his hand on the door handle. "Get your scrawny ass over here; we gotta go after that handsome devil!"

When Sam didn't move Dean rolled his eyes and tugged the door open, then found himself stopped by what seemed like...an invisible barrier. Dean looked around, confused, then groaned as he saw his body, lying on the ground.

"Aw, not again!" he complained, squatting beside his body. "C'mon, as if I haven't had enough of this already!"

Dean punched the ground, barely noticing the flare of pain. Dean turned to Sam, who was crouched by the fairy's body.

"Hey, Sammy!" When Sam didn't respond Dean walked over and flicked him on the ear, his hand going right through Sam's head. Dean sighed and sat down, cross legged, wondering what he was supposed to do now.

---

"Dammit, what am I supposed to do now?" Sam whispered angrily, staring at the fairy's body. She blinked up at him, her eyes clouded over. He watched as her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"I can't hear you," Sam said, stating the obvious. The fairy rolled her eyes and weakly lifted a hand, beckoning him to come closer. He did so, putting his head right next to her mouth. She grabbed hold of his arm in an iron-like grip that belied her suffering appearance.

"Find...the...shape shifter," she rasped, her lips dry and chapped. Sam shook her arm off, his eyes disbelieving.

"Are you kidding me? That's how Dean ended up on death's doorstep!" Sam groaned as her eyes fluttered shut. "Damn...c'mon, what would Dean do if he were here? Probably go 'round shooting everything in sight, asking questions later."

'_Dude, just because I'm a freakin' spirit, doesn't mean I can't hear you! You could try being more considerate! You know, more like your usual pansy-ass self,' Dean muttered, then realised with a shock that a tear was running down Sam's face._

The fairy's eyes flew back open, and Sam saw she didn't have much time left.

"Sam, you can...fix this!" she gasped, her grip finally slackening. "You just...need...to kill it..."

Sam looked first at Dean's body, then the fairy.

"No, I-I can't...I have to make sure Dean's okay." Sam's face was determined. He faced the fairy, all his thoughts focused on Dean. "You have to make him better. I can wish it!"

The fairy shook her head, her eyes angry.

"No! I'm...too weak. It's too late...for your brother..."

"Fine!" Sam stood up, pacing the room, massaging his temples with his knuckles. "I'll...okay. I'll go after the shape shifter. I'll find it. Kill it. And then...you!" Sam swung round and pointed at the fairy. "We have to get you help. And then you can make Dean better!" Sam grinned triumphantly, then his smile faltered. "But...how do we get _you_ better?"

_Dean followed Sam around the room, trying to grab hold of his younger brother every few seconds, bellowing in frustration as his hands went straight through Sam's body. 'Dammit, Sammy, she's the bad guy here! You can't go making deals with her, even for me...just go after the freakin' shape shifter already!' _

"I can...heal myself. Over time." The fairy frowned, then shook her head. "No...there's a presence here. It's stopping me. It's the shape shifter."

Sam stared at her suspiciously, then backed away towards the door.

"I still don't get this," he said slowly. "But if it means Dean will get better...I have to try." Sam took one last look at his brother's body, then ran out of the room. Unseen by him, the fairy settled back on the ground, a sly smile on her face.

---

'_Well you'll be glad to know, there's no supernatural hoodoo stuff going on around here,' Dean stated as he poked his head into a room, not bothering to open the door first. He was following Sam down a corridor, keeping an eye out on his little brother as Sam kept an eye out for the shape shifter. 'That means no trouble for me, at least. You, on the other hand...you're gonna have a hell of a time, trying to lay a hand on that body-thieving bastard.'_

Sam smiled innocently as a doctor and a team of nurses passed, then broke into a run as they disappeared around the corner.

"Okay, first things first. Find the shape shifter. Kill it." Sam panted, slowing down as he reached the end of the hallway. "Okay, left or right?"

'_Oh, you go left, I'll go right,' Dean suggested eagerly, eyeing a pretty nurse wandering down the right-hand side corridor._

"Right it is," Sam mumbled to himself, tossing up between the two sides and going with the closest.

'_Aw, now c'mon dude, that's not fair, I called dibs already!' Dean scowled before stomping down the left corridor._

Sam trudged along, wondering what the hell he was supposed to be looking for, when he accidentally walked right into it.

Literally.

"Ew, gross!" he cried as he kicked his left foot wildly, trying to dislodge the piece of shape shifter residue that was clinging to it. Bending down, Sam studied the pile of goo intently, but it gave him no clues as to where the shape shifter had gone now.

"So...back to square one," he muttered, when suddenly someone grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him backwards into a deserted room.

"Keep quiet or I'll cut you open like a Christmas pig," a voice snarled in his ear. Sam's eyes widened as he was thrown onto the ground, a person whose face was cast in shadow standing over him.

"Uh...don't you have turkey at Christmas?"

A sharp kick was delivered to Sam's side. He grunted, clutching the already half-formed bruise, glaring at his attacker.

"What do you want?"

"I'm gonna ask the questions here," the person said, then knelt down so their eyes were level with Sam's. Sam gasped as he saw Dean looking back at him.

"But...the skin! You...you're Dean again?!"

The Fake Dean shrugged offhandedly, a motion that made Sam strangely uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well...I changed into a doctor, but...he had a wife." The thing sneered, disgust written on its face. "A horrible, gossipy, weepy little woman. I took care of her though," Fake Dean said with a snide laugh.

"Anyway, I figured reliable 'ole Dean would be better than nothing. A lot better, actually," Fake Dean continued, an element of warmth creeping into its tone. "Because I have a proposition to make you."

Fake Dean waited for a reaction, but Sam just stared at him levelly.

"Well? What do you want me to say? You're obviously gonna tell me, whatever I do."

Fake Dean laughed, while Sam tried to control the inner anger that was boiling up inside him, at this creature for using his brother's body as a, a _puppet_.

"I like you, Sammy. You're clever, aren't you?" It was a rhetorical question, which Sam ignored.

"My name's Sam, and could you just get on with the deal already? The less time I spend with you, the better."

The shape shifter shook its head mockingly, then quickly back-handed Sam on the face, who flinched but didn't retaliate.

"See what I mean?" he said. "Hanging around you isn't exactly good for my health."

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it? 'Cause as your brother, we're gonna be spending an awful lot of time together."

"What?" Sam choked, not believing his ears. "Wait...you're _not_ my brother, you're a monster! Just because you look like him doesn't mean you are him!"

Fake Dean chuckled at Sam's anger, waving it away carelessly.

"Ah, but that's what this little deal is all about! You see, while we dither about all these technicalities; I am your brother, I'm not your brother, should I kill you, should I not," Fake Dean's eyes glinted dangerously. "As we talk about it, your brother is slowly drifting closer to death. So, we do this now. You despise me. I don't really see why; after all, I can't help the way I was brought up."

Sam shuddered at the thought of the shape shifter having a family, breeding and raising their 'children'.

"But I can change my future," Fake Dean whispered, grabbing Sam's shoulders in a superhuman grip. "All I have ever wanted, all my life, is to fit in. To be loved. All I have known is hate and suspicion. Your brother will be gone soon. You never needed or wanted him anyway. So, why not replace him? I look like him. I have all his memories, I know how he acts. All I ask is that you, well, don' t try to kill me." The Fake Dean grinned lop-sidedly, so much like Dean that Sam almost said yes.

"It's not true though," he said distractedly. "Why is everyone saying that? Did I ever actually tell anyone that I didn't need Dean? Man, it's starting to piss me off!" Sam folded his arms across his chest crossly as the Fake Dean watched in confusion. "I mean, Dean and I grew up together. He was more like my father than Dad ever was, and he was also my best friend. After I left...well, it was one of the hardest things I've done in my life. When he came to get me, I didn't know what to feel." Sam frowned angrily, balling his fists in frustration. "But that was a year ago! We've been through so much, and now...he's the only one in this freakin' messed up world that I actually trust! Why does no one _understand_ that?!"

---

_Dean froze in the doorway of the room. He had scoured the halls of the hospital, but didn't find anything. Suddenly, he'd heard raised voices, and tore through walls to get to Sammy. But...he couldn't help but stop and listen as Sam vented all his anger and frustration on Dean's double. Dean stopped, staring at his little brother bewilderedly._

'_Christ, Sammy...you couldn't have just _told_ me that? If you had, none of this would've happened! Who would've known acting like a moody teenager would cause so much trouble?" Dean said to no one in particular. He sighed, then disappeared, heading towards the basement. He knew what he had to do._

---

"That's sweet, really Sammy. It's also a bunch of crap. Now, do we have a deal or not?"

Sam glared at the Fake Dean, about to make a witty retort that would no doubt earn him another nasty looking bruise, when the door was kicked open.

"Freeze! Put your hands in the air!" a voice yelled, and then policemen were swarming into the room.

"What do we do first, freeze or put our hands in the air?" the shape shifter mocked, but was then unable to talk, as his feet were knocked out from beneath him, and a policeman knelt on his back, a gun shoved inches away from his nose.

"Dean Winchester? You're under arrest for three counts of known murder, charges of breaking and entering, theft..."

As the charges were read out and the Fake Dean was led from the room, Sam stepped out from the shadows.

"You wanna be my brother? You can do a good job impersonating him in jail," Sam whispered, before running down a corridor before someone spotted him.

---

"Dean. I thought I'd see you again."

'_What, how can you see...? Never mind,' Dean said tiredly as he flopped onto the ground next to the fairy, who lifted herself up so she was leaning against the wall. That little movement caused a sweat to break out on her fore head, and she clutched at her wound painfully. Dean watched with detached interest._

'_I can't believe I'm actually consorting with the enemy,' Dean said disbelievingly as he studied her. She grinned wryly, her face pale._

"You and me both, pal. Although, I guess it's not that much of a surprise. You are, after all, related to Sam Winchester."

_Dean stared at her suspiciously, but her face didn't give anything away._

'_What's that supposed to mean?'_

_The fairy shrugged, her eyes innocent._

"Nothing. It's just, you know...word gets round, even in the supernatural world. He's kinda, known for his...leniency. Or mercy. Or-"

'_Foolishness?' Dean suggested sarcastically, laughing for no reason I particular. The fairy frowned, looking slightly aggrieved. _

"It's not a bad thing, you know. Maybe you should try be a bit more compassionate yourself."

_Dean glared at her, jumping to his feet._

'_Look, I don't need advice from you. Exactly how many people have you killed in your life, Little Miss Compassion? Yeah, that's what I thought,' Dean said aggressively as she said nothing. 'You know, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be in this position at all. I wouldn't be minutes away from death!'_

_The fairy watched him as he paced the room restlessly, his silent footsteps slightly unnerving Dean. _

"You don't think that, if I had wanted to kill you, I would've done so already?"

'_Huh?' Dean stopped in his tracks, looking at her suspiciously, and wondering what she was trying to con her way out of this time. She sighed, rolling her eyes, in a gesture that reminded Dean oddly of Sam._

"Think about it Dean!" _She argued, a bit of colour returning to her face. "_I mean, you said it yourself. I've killed numbers of men...although they deserved," _she added as an afterthought._

'_No one deserves to be murdered,' Dean said darkly. The fairy looked at him, amused, then laughed a little excessively. _

"You really didn't do your homework this time, did you Dean? Although, seeing as Sam as a kid, I guess you lost the brain part of the duo." _When Dean still looked at her blankly, the fairy sighed and got shakily to her feet._

"I'm not evil, Dean. All those men who died? Yeah, they got what was coming to them. They were all nasty little buggers." _Dean realised with a smirk that the fairy developed an English side when she was angry, but hid it before she could see. "_They cheated, lied, thieved and murdered their way through life. They wished for something greedy, purely selfish, and," _she shrugged causally, as if it had nothing to do with her. "_I dealt out what they had coming. Simple as that."

_'Okay,' Dean said slowly. 'So, if you killed them, after you had granted their wishes, what about me? You said you weren't planning to kill me!' Dean accused. She laughed again, and Dean glared at her. 'That wasn't meant to be funny.'_

"Dean, I wasn't out to get you! I'm _not_," _she corrected herself hastily. "_It was an experiment. To help you, actually." _She continued before Dean could interrupt...again. "_To be honest, I really just wanted to check out the infamous Winchester brothers were really like. Then I saw you, and I knew something was wrong. You and I both know how Sam feels about you, but you wouldn't let yourself believe it. I mean, you have some serious issues up here," _the fairy said, tapping her head, and Dean stepped back in shock._

'_Wait, you were in my _mind_?!' he cried. She ignored him, and kept on talking._

"I just hope that being shot is worth you two sorting things out," _the fairy said tiredly, and Dean suddenly remembered his cold body on the ground. He whirled around, and a lump appeared in his throat._

'_I...look so peaceful,' he said softly, and suddenly the air seemed to shimmer. The fairy looked up at him in alarm._

"No! Dean, you have to get back into your body! Now!" _she cried, reeling back as Dean looked at her, no recognition in his eyes at all. "_Dean, I'm telling you to get back in your body!" _she said sternly, her voice calmer._

'_Can you do that? I mean, bring me back to life?' Dean asked dazedly. He could feel someone calling him...was it his dad? His Mum? No, they were dead. But...he could've sworn he heard their voices..._

"Yes, I can," _the fairy said forcefully, hoping like hell nobody called her bluff. Dean frowned, then walked towards his body. He sat down, so his lower body was submerged, joined with his real body._

'_What will happen to me?' Dean whispered, his voice devoid of emotion. The fairy shook her head impatiently, then stopped._

"Trust in yourself. In Sammy," _she said softly. "_Your love will save you."

_Dean nodded, as if in satisfaction, then lay down, joining spirit and body together once again._

_---_

"Your love will save you? What kind of crappy line is that? I mean, I'm three hundred and twenty-nine years old, I've seen cities fall, killed god only knows how many people...and that's the best I could come up with?"

Sam burst into the boiler room just as the fairy was in the middle of shaking her head in self loathing.

"It's taken care of," Sam said breathlessly, then his eyes bulged as he caught sight of Dean, whose chest was heaving up and down erratically, but moving nonetheless.

"Dean!" he yelled, tearing over to his brother's side. "He's...he's breathing!" Sam cried ecstatically. The fairy nodded, but her eyes were sad.

"Yes, but Sam...he's weak. Too weak. He's lost a lot of blood."

Sam glared at her, then saw that she too was bleeding; her clothes were stained a rusty pink colour, her blood shades lighter than any humans'.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked softly, moving to her side, but not before picking Dean's body up and taking it with him. He staggered under the weight of his older brother's limp body, but he wouldn't leave Dean alone.

He couldn't.

"I'm...well, no actually," the fairy said, deciding not to lie as she stared into Sam's trusting eyes.

"But...no. That's not right!" Sam's breathing quickened as his eyes raced around the room, looking for something to help. "Is there...you really can't do anything?"

"I...it's not up to me anymore, Sam," the fairy said. Sam stared at her, his frustration mounting at all her cryptic clues.

"I...I wish Dean...and you were completely healthy again," Sam whispered. The fairy's eyes widened in shock as she tried to stop him, but it was too late. A wind struck up from nowhere (as wind tends to do in situations like this) blowing so hard Sam had to close his eyes. She reached out desperately for Dean's body, or even the fairy's, but he couldn't feel anything. Suddenly the ground fell out from beneath his body, and he was free falling, his stomach lurching, his sense of direction completely obliterated. He couldn't talk, or think, or even breath...

And then he crashed into the ground, only it wasn't the same place that they had been in before...

---

Dean's eyes flew open the minute he made contact with the ground. He jumped to his feet. The first thing he noticed was that he was feeling fantastic; his bullet wound didn't hurt, because...it was no longer there. The ache in his bones, the bruises on his body...they were all gone too.

The second thing he noticed was Sam lying on the ground, not far from his feet.

He tore over to his little brother, concern fuelling his steps.

"Sam! Sammy! Wake up!"

Dean slapped his brother lightly. Sam was motionless for a second, then a hand shot out and punched Dean in the chin, sending him reeling. Sam sat up slowly, blinking rapidly.

"Huh? What? Oh, freakin' hell, my hand!" Sam stuck his sore hand in his mouth, glancing around for the cause, and saw Dean staring at him with murder in his eyes.

"Dean, I, uh-hey, you're alive! Dean, you're alive!" Dean suddenly found him smothered by Sam's never-ending arms, as his brother hugged him tightly. Sam sat back just as suddenly as he had attacked Dean, causing Dean to fall over.

"Yeah, well I'd like to stay that way for now, so take it easy, okay?" Dean grumbled, picking grass off his jacket. "No wonder we never hug. Have your arms always had the tendency of noodles?"

Before Sam could retort there was a quiet cough from behind him, and they both turned to see the fairy leaning against a tree. For the first time, they took in their surroundings.

They were in a garden of some sort, with a high back fence that, from the sounds of it, led to a road. In the other direction was a large white two-storey house, that looked oddly familiar.

"Nice to see you two getting along," the fairy said, brining their attention back to her. The brothers grinned at each other, until Sam punched Dean playfully in the arm. The ever-competitive Dean growled and punched Sam right back, until they were rolling around on the ground, fighting.

"_Guys_!" the fairy yelled, and Sam and Dean suddenly found themselves suspended a foot above the air by an invisible force.

"Glad to see you're okay too," Dean said, his eyes light as he recalled what had happened before he went back into his body. Things were a bit blurred, but he was pretty sure the fairy was now one of the _good_ guys.

"Yeah, thanks to your brother," the fairy said, beaming at Sam, who blushed . Dean rolled his eyes, wondering why Sam was always thanked and not him.

"It's because he's easier to get along with," the fairy said sternly, and Dean flushed. "Anyway, I just wanted to say goodbye. Thankyou both. I won't forget what you've done for me."

"Yeah, you owe us one!" Dean crowed. The fairy glared at him.

"Well, I seem to recall a certain someone shooting me," she said, annoyed, and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Uh, don't mention it, we'll call it even," he said hastily, as Sam turned a laugh into a cough.

"Anyway. I'll see you again, maybe sometime soon. Stay out of trouble, okay?"

The fairy stopped whatever they were doing and the brothers fell to the ground, Sam more gently than Dean, something that did not go unnoticed by him.

"Sam," the fairy said softly, taking his arm and pulling him to the side. "When you wished, I, uh, wasn't at my best, as you know. So, there might be some setbacks. You'll probably know before I do, but...just be careful, okay?" Before Sam could ask her anything, the fairy disappeared.

Sam turned around, taking exhaling heavily, a giant grin appearing on his face as he saw Dean hopping around on one foot, trying to take something out of his boot.

"Wanna give me a hand with this Sammy?" Dean bellowed. Sam laughed and charged at him, knocking him over, then leaping to his feet and hurrying out of arm's reach.

"You've gotten soft, Dean," he mocked. "All that mothering...didn't do you much good!"

"You wish!" Dean retorted, chucking his boot at Sam's head, and missing narrowly. Sam stared at it in disbelief.

"You could've killed me!"

"Pity."

"...right, you're not getting your boot back!"

"Wait, what? Give it, sasquatch!"

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it, guys! The end. Finito. I, uh, don't really know 'the end' in any other language...kind of an anticlimax, huh? Sorry 'bout the cliche ending, but cliches are cliched for a reason, right? 'Cause they work, that's why[beaming So, what'dya think? Thankyou to everyone who reviewed, it's great to hear people like the story...well, look out for another Winchester advneture soon : ) xxsurexx 


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